


Tying the Nott

by ShayaLonnie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Characters That Died in Canon Survive Because Fanfic Magic, Curses, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-11-17 01:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 89,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayaLonnie/pseuds/ShayaLonnie
Summary: In a post-war world where Hermione is friends with Draco Malfoy and most of her friends have developed relationships with former Slytherin classmates, Hermione is single. However, when former Death Eater—Theo Nott—is dying, Hermione is guilted into marrying him to save his life.*Indefinite Hiatus—Not Abandoned*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a WIP that has been up at FFN for a few years now. It is not complete, and I am trying to finish it, but I wanted to get the current chapters edited and moved over to Ao3 so that will hopefully motivate me to get it all going again. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Beta Love: Fluffpanda, mlg6504

**March 2004**

"Granger."

Hermione looked up at Draco sitting across the table as he addressed her, noticing the way he squared his shoulders and adjusted his posture. It was something she had caught him doing in meetings at the Ministry when he knew he needed to prepare himself for an argument, especially a difficult one. That kind of posturing directed at  _her_ was never a good sign, but she did not vocalise her observations, allowing him to say what he needed to say.

"Do you remember the life debt you owe me? I'm collecting on it."

She slowly tilted her head to the side, staring at him incredulously as she wondered what the hell he was talking about. She refused to break eye contact with him. He had told her once, years ago, that breaking eye contact was a sign of weakness. "I don't owe you a life debt, Malfoy."

They had each only been working in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for six months—he in the  _Beasts_ Division; her in the  _Being_ Division—when Remus, the new Head of the department, paired them together for a case involving a werewolf who had been suspected of keeping a chimaera as a pet.

Malfoy had insisted that eye contact and posturing was the way to go, but all that landed him was a slammed door in his face and a threat involving the next full moon. When the Lycanthrope reopened his door to address  _Hermione_ , she lowered her gaze and tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck and submitting to the man on his own territory. Suddenly. they had been let through the door.

Beings were her speciality.

The  _chimaera_ on the other hand . . .

She shuddered at the memory; one that was never to be brought up in front of Malfoy because he had a terrible habit of gloating. It was, in fact, the first time he had saved her life and not the last—though, she saved him  _just_ as many times. It became a game over the years. It was something that Harry and Ginny found entertaining. Ron could not grasp why Hermione refused to call in the debt immediately and make Draco do something mortifying. It was hard to explain to a man married to Pansy Parkinson that being under the thumb of a Slytherin was not something she was looking forward to—something  _he_ had clearly grown numb to over the years.

Hermione tapped her index finger on the side of her paper coffee cup where the barista had incorrectly written her name on the side in black marker. "The last time  _you_ saved  _my_ life was three years ago when I fell off that broom on the dragon case in Berwickshire. I repaid  _that_ a month later when Dolohov escaped Azkaban and showed up at your house."

Draco waved his hand in the air impatiently in that smug way that had her nose twitching, brushing off her words. Shaking his head, he sighed and rhetorically asked, "Honestly, what kind of witch can't ride a broom?"

She held back the growl in her throat knowing that he was purposely provoking her.

" _I don't understand how you can be friends with him,"_  Ron would often say.

" _At least life isn't boring."_

Her two best friends would laugh at her, and Harry would inevitably ask, " _When have our lives ever been boring, Hermione?"_

She was glad to note that her adventures these days consisted of the occasional meetup for coffee with former Death Eaters as opposed to fighting them off in the middle of battle. Then again, the spare fugitive would show up once every few years, as Dolohov had done three years earlier when Hermione had stopped by Malfoy Manor to deal with a case that crossed her desk.

"Don't you remember?" she asked him. "I was there investigating the disappearance of another one of your wife's invisible pets because you, being the giant pain in my arse you are, filed an actual report just to spite me."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I was just being a loving and supportive husband, and I couldn't investigate my own house."

"Your wife is mental when it comes to those things, and you know it! Diggory didn't even know what nargles  _were_. And since it was  _your_ bloody house, he made  _me_ look into it. It was embarrassing trying to explain the situation without making any of us look out of our minds for indulging Luna."

" _You're dating Malfoy?!" Ginny screamed when Luna was caught outside of Honeydukes holding the Draco's hand as they strolled through the village during the first Hogsmeade Weekend following the return for their final year of Hogwarts. Most, like Harry and Ron, had opted out of going back to school, but Hermione was adamant about returning, especially since Professor McGonagall had given her the position of Head Girl._

_Unfortunately, she had to share a common room with the Head Boy—Draco Malfoy—who started dating Luna two weeks into the term._

" _His family held you captive in their home!" Ginny said as Hermione tried to figure out when, exactly, the pair had hashed out their obvious differences and found enough similarities to build a relationship upon._

_Luna—bless her—smiled at them both, told them that when she was in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, Draco had brought her cake. Cake!_

" _Must have been some cake," Hermione voiced quietly, and both Draco and Luna smiled in a way that she prayed to God was not a sexual inside joke between the two._

"She's eccentric," Draco said, defending his wife of two years. "And yes, I do remember you saving my bloody life then, thank you."

When Hermione had shown up at the Manor, Draco directed her away from the drawing room to the spot where Luna had last seen the nargles when the wards alerted him that someone else had arrived. Despite trying to fix the wards after Lucius had been sent to Azkaban and Narcissa relocated to France, Antonin Dolohov made his way into Malfoy Manor only to be put down with a Stunning Spell from Hermione when his back was turned. He had been too focused on trying to use the Cruciatus Curse on Draco to hear her footsteps.

"I had to have a Curse-Breaker come and reset the wards around the Manor after that incident. Speaking of which and, more importantly, back to my original point, I saved your life six months ago when we were called on that thing with the Muggles in London. You were attacked, and I  _saved your life_ ," Draco said, adding emphasis to the "saving of the life" portion of his song and dance.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "What thing in London? Wait. Are you talking about Hyde Park?" she asked, chuckling at the memory. "Where a flock of ducks waddled over, you screamed at the sight of them, and then shoved me into the pond?"

Draco's jaw ticked. " _Were_ ducks."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. "There's no such thing as wereducks. You're afraid of quacking birds, you prat."

Even though she had been knee deep and wet in a dirty pond, the memory of Draco Malfoy running away from a few small birds looking for spare bits of bread had been set aside in a phial, ready for a Pensieve anytime she had a bad day and needed some cheering up.

"How are you afraid of harmless birds? I've had misplaced complaints come across my desk about that wretched eagle owl of yours trying to hunt hippogriffs, which you are  _also_ afraid of, and—"

"First," Draco interrupted, his tone bitter, "Malfoys aren't afraid of things. Second, you leave Bubo alone. Third, we both know that if Malfoys  _were_ afraid of things—which we're not—I would have a bloody good reason to be afraid of hippogriffs." He unconsciously scratched at a small scar on his arm from where Buckbeak had attacked him in third year. "And my  _loyal_ familiar has every right to hunt them. You're missing the point. The point is: wereducks exists, one tried to attack you, I saved your life, and now you owe me a life debt."

Hermione smiled but rolled her eyes, tempted to indulge him if only to find out what he wanted. "Well, despite you being your typical irritating self, I'm actually intrigued that you'd go through  _this_ much effort to secure a favour from me. Even though you can't actually call it a favour."

He glowered at her. A look that had not been intimidating in school and had not changed over the years.

"It's not," he insisted.

She took a sip of her drink and grimaced as the taste of cold coffee swept across her tongue. She quickly swallowed it as a thought occurred to her. "Wait, what do you mean  _speaking of which_?'"

"Speaking of what?"

"You said 'speaking of which' when we were talking about Dolohov breaking through your wards. You said, 'speaking of which' and then started babbling about the pretend life debt I owe you."

"It's real."

Hermione groaned as she felt her patience running thin. She was regretting taking a long lunch, but he had asked nicely for once—that should have been an indicator at the time that he wanted something from her, and she'd gone along with it. A part of her had been wondering if he was planning on asking her to be the godmother to his and Luna's firstborn child. The idea that she would be picked over Pansy had her giddy enough to accept the idea of tying herself to a Malfoy for the rest of her life in such a way.

"What does it have to do with Dolohov?"

"Nothing," Draco said and looked at her like she was stupid for not keeping up with him. "It has to do with the Curse-Breaker."

"Bill?"

"Weasley?" he scoffed. "Why would I hire a Weasley to come and fuck with my wards? They were  _already_ broken, I didn't need them third-rate as well. Weasleys are terrible at almost everything they do."

"I should tell Ginny you said that."

Draco, smart man that he was, had the grace to respect the threat. "Fine, not  _everything_ they do. Red's talented with balls and a bit of wood between her thighs. She's earned me a great deal of Galleons over the years. I also hear she plays Quidditch."

Hermione made a gagging noise. "I should tell Blaise you said that."

"By all means." Draco shrugged, clearly not threatened in the slightest. "It's a borrowed joke from  _his_ repertoire. The point is though, Ginny plays Quidditch like a pro—which is helpful since she happens to  _be_ one—but Blaise says he can't eat anything the witch cooks for fear of food poisoning. Weasels are naturally good at  _one_ thing, and everything else is a potential cluster fuck."

Hermione smirked. "You're admitting that Ron's good at something?"

"Knocking up Pansy seems to be something he's skilled at. Then again, he's also accident prone, so . . ."

The two shared an uncomfortable laugh.

When the war was over and Hermione and Ron decided to give a relationship a shot, it was less than two months later that they awkwardly parted ways to save their friendship. Three months and a full bottle of firewhisky later, Ron had woken up in a room at the Leaky Cauldron next to Pansy Parkinson. Near December, when she showed up at the Burrow with a prenatal confirmation report from St Mungo's, Molly hit Ron over the head with the morning's  _Daily Prophet_  and invited Pansy in for lunch to plan a wedding.

"Back to your point—or  _my_ point," Hermione said. "Bill's the best Curse-Breaker that Gringott's has. He put up the wards around  _my_ flat. And the Burrow. And Ron and Pansy's place. And Harry and Daphne's!"

" _Did you know that Blaise and Daphne dated at Hogwarts?" Ginny asked Harry._

_They had all gotten together to help move Daphne into Grimmauld Place, and while the boys were all out back taking a break with a couple of butterbeers and Daphne was upstairs showing Pansy how she planned to redecorate the bedroom, Hermione and Ginny sat down with Harry in the dining room to look through the old china cupboard to see if space could be made for Daphne's heirlooms._

" _Did they?" Harry asked. "That's weird."_

" _That our significant others slept together probably the same year that_ we  _were sleeping together?" Ginny asked with a smirk. "Yeah, a little weird."_

" _It's weird that you two are so open about this in front of me," Hermione commented as she threw out an old platter that had the words of House Black engraved in the centre of it, watching with amusement as it shattered in the metal bin._

_It was not weird at all, though. An hour later, when all of the boxes had been put away, Bill stopped in to set up the wards around the house and, once he left, everyone sat down around the large dining room table for dinner. Draco with Luna sitting on his lap, Blaise and Ginny in the same position on the other side of the table, Ron trying to wrangle his four-year-old son, Artie, into his chair between him and a pregnant Pansy, and Harry and Daphne at the other end, looking besotted with one another._

_And Hermione. Hermione was always there too._

"And should I ever purchase a lovely  _hovel_ of my own, I will hire the were-Weasley immediately," Draco smirked as he spoke. "But I have a  _manor_ and a very pretty and pregnant wife to keep protected. If  _my_ wards fail, I stand to actually lose something because, as you so sweetly put it, Luna is mental. Her invisible friends won't stand guard should Death Eaters come knocking. No one wants to break into the giant Weasel coop, Daphne has the Chosen One at her beck and call for protection, and Pansy's shrill voice is better than any Caterwauling Charm I've ever heard. Fuck . . ." Draco growled impatiently. "What was my point?"

"Speaking of which."

"Yes!" He snapped his fingers. "Speaking of which! Curse-Breakers! Yes, I hired Theo to fix my wards."

Hermione stared at him, having no idea what point he was trying to make. "Theo? Theodore  _Nott_? I didn't know he was a Curse-Breaker," she said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I knew he was still—." She paused abruptly when she looked up and saw Draco suddenly tense at her words. "Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat and gave a curt nod, his posture still stiff. "Theo's not just  _any_ Curse-Breaker. He's the best. He does freelance work because he's so expensive; even Gringott's won't hire him unless their onstaff servants, like Weasley, can't crack the codes."

"This has to do with your fake life debt because . . . ?"

"It's real."

"Draco!"

Draco smirked, clearly pleased with himself for breaking her resolve. "Did you know that Theo graduated top of our class?" he asked casually, glancing down into his half-empty drink and swirling the contents with the thin, red straw. "He's very intelligent."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. " _I_  graduated top of our class," she said, correcting him, "and Nott didn't even come back for our eighth year."

"He took his N.E.W.T.s through correspondence," Draco said, shrugging. "He's also very rich. And handsome. Or so I'm told. Luna says she took a fancy. He has dark hair and blue eyes, and she says that since he's taller than me and . . ." He said the words in a mocking tone and then, when he caught Hermione chuckling at him, he cleared his throat. "I don't have a complex about it. Witches think he's fit, leave it at that."

She sighed and leant forward, putting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers. "What are you doing? Why does this feel like a precursor to a blind date? Why do I feel like you're channelling your inner Pansy?"

"I'm calling in your life debt."

"I don't owe you a bloody life debt, Malfoy!"

"I need you to marry Theo."

Hermione's mouth fell open. Did she hear that correctly?

"What?" she said, staring across the table at him, regretting—and not for the first time—ever making a truce with the Slytherin after the war ended. Surely, she could be friends with people less high maintenance and much more stable than Draco Malfoy. "Did someone Confund you? Has Luna been brewing that strange fermented tea again? You know she shouldn't be allowed around a cauldron, especially when she's pregnant. The fumes alone could cause a number of prenatal problems that—"

"Granger," he said again, reaching across the table and actually taking her arm to grab her attention, effectively cutting her words right off.

The physical gesture had her panicking. Draco did not touch people. Correction—Draco touched Luna affectionately, touched his Slytherin friends every so often with a pat on the back or a punch to the shoulder and, when it bothered Ron, he would hug Artie. But unless he was saving her life by catching her from falling off of a broom or pushing her into a pond to escape wereducks, Draco  _never_ touched Hermione.

She glanced down at the place where his hand held her. She was sure he had not noticed it at first, but his fingers accidentally brushed against the raised scar on her forearm, and she watched him tense at the realisation.  _This_ was why Draco never touched her. It reminded him.

He quickly pulled away.

"You're kind of scaring me here, Malfoy," Hermione whispered at the look of genuine concern in his eyes.

He took a breath and then finally said, "I need you to marry my best friend because if you don't, he's going to die."


	2. Chapter 2

**March 2004**

Hermione stared across the table. "Beg your pardon?"

"I need you to marry Theo," Draco repeated his request—no,  _demand_. Fake life debt and everything.

"Caught that bit," she said irritably. "Go back to the 'or he's going to die' portion of the worst marriage proposal ever."

Draco sighed and began picking at the paper coffee cup with his thumbnail, a nervous habit he had picked up years earlier whenever they went out in Wizarding areas of Britain and people recognised him for being a former Death Eater. Few people had the nerve to say anything, especially if he was with her or any number of other Gryffindors or members of Dumbledore's Army that he got suckered into befriending thanks to Luna. Still, the nervous habit remained.

"Theo's sick," he said, not even trying to do that thing all Slytherins did when they were upset about something and put on an emotionless mask of indifference to hide their feelings that made them vulnerable.

She shook her head, trying to work her way around the fact that Draco was genuinely upset and allowing her to see it—which was a miracle in and of itself. "So get him a Healer, not a wife."

He looked up from his torn paper cup and glared at her. "Would you shut up for a minute?"

Hermione frowned, feeling genuinely guilty. "Sorry. Is your friend really dying?"

"It's a curse that's killing him. Considering he's a Curse-Breaker and hasn't figured out how to cure himself, we're . . ." Draco sighed and rubbed at his forehead, tussling his hair a touch as he tried to massage out the obvious stress-induced headache.

Instinctively, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a small plastic bottle, popping the top and handing over two pills, grateful when he took them willingly as opposed to the usual fit he threw anytime she tried to "poison him with Muggle nonsense."

"We're not hopeful," he said quietly after throwing back the painkillers and drinking the rest of his cold coffee, taking care not to sip from the torn edges or risk spilling it on his white silk shirt.

"We?"

"Blaise knows. Pansy and Daphne too. We've known about this for a while."

Despite working with magical beings and creatures for the past several years, Hermione considered herself well educated in curses considering she spent the majority of her childhood being Harry Potter's best friend. Dealing with Dark Magic pretty much came with the job description.

"Was it something he touched? I know that Curse-Breakers deal with Dark Artifacts all the time."

Draco shook his head. "No. He was cursed by someone."

"Can you find the person? I know it's a longshot, but they might have the cure. Surely between the lot of you, money wouldn't be a problem if that's all the person wanted." As the thought occurred to her, she asked, "Is this revenge?"

"Oh, it's most certainly revenge," Draco said bitterly. "But finding the person who cursed him won't help."

"Why not?"

He slowly looked up at her, his grey eyes the light colour of sunshine hidden behind storm clouds. His lips were tight, and his jaw ticked, and he took a breath before speaking again. "Because Potter killed him."

She felt an old familiar sense of dread sink into the pit of her stomach. "Riddle cursed Nott?" she asked and Draco nodded. "It's been . . . Draco it's been almost six years. It's taken  _that_ long for this curse to take effect?"

"No, it's taken almost  _seven_ years," he corrected her. "Theo was cursed when he took the Dark Mark just before we all went back to Hogwarts and you and the dastardly duo went on the run."

"Seven years?" She took into account the relevance of the number in reference to Arithmancy. Seven was the most powerful magical number. Seven Horcruxes.

"What can I say, the Dark Lord had a fetish for magical numbers."

Hermione cringed angrily. "Don't call him that. He wasn't any  _Lord_. Say Voldemort," she said and waited for Draco to flinch—because he still did all these years later. "If you can't manage that, call him Tom Riddle."

He stared at her the way he used to when they were younger; it unnerved her.

"Granger, the man fed a woman to his snake on my dining room table. You don't call that bloke 'Tom.' And stop distracting me. So . . .  _Riddle_ ," Draco said scathingly as he rolled his eyes, "was completely mental when he came back at the end of fourth year. I was at Hogwarts most of the time, but when I was home . . . let's just say he was a lovely example for Bellatrix."

Hermione's posture stiffened. "Noted."

"Our guess is that he didn't trust his followers by the end which, considering the Snape factor, was probably smart thinking on his part. When the new generation of Death Eaters took the Dark Mark, he layered in a curse that slowly, over seven years, drains a person's magical core."

Hermione could not stop herself from gasping.

"And you know what happens when a core is depleted."

She nodded. "You die."

It was why the Killing Curse was so effective. Unlike other curses that attack the body, the Killing Curse went straight for the magical core. It was one of the reasons Unspeakables were constantly trying to approach Harry, desperate to find out how he had survived the curse twice.

"Five points to Gryffindor," Draco said. "We figure that Riddle thought he would win the war, and if any of our parents tried to usurp him, he could hold us hostage. We were already infected with the curse when we took the Mark, so it's not like he would have had to put much effort into threatening us. All he had to do is withhold the cure to ensure their loyalty. Fortunately, for the rest of the world—and  _unfortunate_ for those he Marked—Potter won, and the cure died with Riddle."

"So, how are  _you_ alive? You took the Dark Mark  _eight_ years ago."

She watched him twist his wedding band around his finger as he ignored her question and continued his tale. "We first suspected something had happened when Warrington died."

Hermione furrowed her brow, searching her memory for the name. "Cassius Warrington. I remember that case," she said after a few seconds. "Harry worked on it. They thought he'd been poisoned."

"Similar effects as the curse. They were never able to trace anything though.  _He_ wasn't the first to die. Flint was."

"Marcus? He died in a Quidditch accident, everyone knows that. Ginny was there when it happened."

It had been all over the  _Daily Prophet_  for weeks. The famous Quidditch-star-turned-addict showed up to a game loaded on a multitude of things they later found in his blood. In the middle of a match—and not even an important one—Marcus slipped off of his broom, did nothing to save himself, and crashed into the ground after falling a good two-hundred feet, breaking his neck.

"Yes, they said he had been drinking, which was true," Draco admitted. "But Flint's mother told Daphne that, prior to his death, all he did was drink because it numbed the pain. Potions weren't working."

"Oh my God."

"Then Montague died a week after Warrington, and we all knew it was a pattern. But then Pucey survived long enough to make it to his wedding."

"Daphne's sister, right?"

Draco nodded, picking at his cup again. "He was sick right up until the bonding ceremony. Then, just like that, Adrian was fine and never had another problem. We stopped worrying until last year when it was leading up to the seventh year since  _I_  took the Dark Mark. I waited to get sick." He wore a guilty expression on his face. Hermione assumed that during his moments of anxiety Draco would take his worries out on Luna, who very likely was nothing but the adoring and caring person that she was, irritable husband be damned. "I waited for something bad to happen, but nothing did. The anniversary of the day I took the Mark came and went. So, we thought we'd been paranoid about the others."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sensing an 'until' coming up."

"Until just before Christmas when Goyle died. He and Crabbe had taken the Mark over the holidays during sixth year. Healers at St Mungo's couldn't figure out what killed him, but  _we_ all knew."

Hermione wanted to offer him comfort but knew better. That was not their friendship. She assumed he had Luna for that or, at the very least Pansy and Daphne.

"Theo started getting sick about two weeks later."

"But you and Pucey were fine? Are you sure the curse wasn't specific to individuals? Your father was technically Voldemort's right hand, maybe you were spared," she suggested and then immediately regretted it when she was met with a glare.

"Granger," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation as though they'd had this conversation before, "if it was given to specific individuals,  _I_ would have been the first gone just to make a point. No, Pucey and I were saved because of Astoria and Luna."

She made a face of disbelief and confusion at his words, curious as to how two witches with no experience in curses or Dark Magic had . . . "Mother of Merlin! The bonding ceremony!"

Draco nodded and touched the tip of his nose with his index finger. "The curse drains our magical cores, but a marriage bonds our cores together with our wives. The witches are completely unaffected," he said before she had a chance to wonder about contamination or potential contagion. "Pucey and I did a few tests and found that the longer we're married, the stronger our cores become. They're not only keeping us alive, they're  _curing_ us."

She nodded in understanding. "So you need Theo to get married to save his life."

He sighed in what sounded like relief, and Hermione could not help but wonder how many times he'd had to tell this story.

"And we would have had more time to look for a witch, but Theo, the fucker, up and ran off at the beginning of January, likely hiding from the truth," Draco said bitterly. "He got back two days ago, locked himself behind the wards of his house, and won't come out. He's letting himself die."

She understood the anger and sadness in Draco's tone. She remembered she and Ron shared a similar one years ago when Harry up and disappeared in the middle of battle to wander off into the Forbidden Forest to just let himself die. Being friends with someone like that took its toll over the years.

"Why me?" she blurted out.

Draco winced, looking uncomfortable. "Because every other witch we know is either married or has a problem with former Death Eaters. Don't think we haven't tried asking others. Blaise worked his charm all over Britain and even hung around the Three Broomsticks to try and grab the attention of the witches that will graduate Hogwarts this year. No takers."

She glowered at him, completely offended. "So I'm the last straw? The filthy Mudblood that's not worthy to marry one of you precious boys until it's a matter of life or death?"

"Shut up, Granger," Draco snapped at her. "None of us have brought up that shit for years except for Pansy and, in her defence, you  _did_ tell her she was being a cow. Besides, Theo's not like that."

Hermione scoffed. "Not like  _what_? The rest of you?"

"Yes," Draco answered coolly. "Or how we  _used_ to be. Theo never cared."

She had trouble believing that, figuring that Draco would do just about anything at this point to trick her into marrying his friend.

"He still took the Mark," she insisted. "And I've had the unfortunate circumstance of meeting his father several times," she said as she recalled the Department of Mysteries and the final Battle of Hogwarts. Theo's father was not a wholly stable individual that Hermione often categorised alongside others like the Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix. Dark Magic and dementors never did mix well.

"Malfoy, I'm . . . I'm sorry, but I can't  _marry_ Nott. He's a  _stranger_. We'd be bonded for  _life_. There's no divorce in the Wizarding world. And it sounds to me like he's made his decision." She took a breath and then stood, the discomfort and guilt were already eating away at her, and she knew that Draco knew this would happen. Her bleeding Gryffindor heart.

"Granger, don't leave."

When she made for the door, he shouted, "Please!"

The desperation in his voice was something she had never heard before. She turned back and watched as he corrected his expression to hide the fact that he had just literally  _begged_ her for something.

"Just . . ." He clenched his teeth, reeling his pride back in place. "Just think about it."

"Draco—"

"Granger, if we don't figure something out, Daphne says she's going to break it off with Potter and marry Theo herself. We'll Imperius him to the ceremony if we need to. I won't allow that fucking psychopath to kill another one of my friends," Draco snarled, drawing the attention of several nearby Muggles. A quick glare in their direction and they all turned their attentions back to whatever it was they had been doing before Draco started shouting about psychopaths.

Hermione, shocked by the threat—and it very clearly was a threat—shook her head. "No. Daphne loves Harry. She wouldn't throw her life away like that to—"

"Save a friend?" Draco raised a questioning brow. "What would  _you_ sacrifice to save a friend, Granger?"

She ran the pad of her thumb over the raised scar on her forearm, remembering the pain and the anguish from Bellatrix's Cruciatus Curse and the sharp stab of her dagger. But most of all, she remembered the feeling of a strange relief when she had been separated from Harry and Ron in Malfoy Manor.

" _Leave the girl,"_  Bellatrix had said. The first thing that Hermione thought was:  _If I die, maybe Harry and Ron will have a chance._

"I . . . I'll think about it."


	3. Chapter 3

**March 5th, 2004**

She fled from Draco and the cafe as quickly as possible, the promise that she would consider marrying his friend—a perfect stranger as far as she was concerned—lingered in the air. She would go enjoy the relaxing weekly family dinners held at her parent's home, and then she would return to her flat and figure out how to break it to Draco that there was no way in hell she was going to tie herself to Theodore Nott for the rest of her life. Bind herself and her  _magical core_  to him? No way. Maybe she would get in contact with Bill Weasley and see if there were better Curse-Breakers than Nott to look at the curse of the Dark Mark.

A warm cup of tea, some biscuits, and a night in with some books and research was just the thing she needed to distract her from the guilt that Draco had put on her.

Trouble was . . . he was not wrong—which she hated to admit—about her self-sacrificing tendencies.

Working with her, not to mention going to school with her for seven years, had taught the Slytherin that Hermione was willing to risk her own life to save another. Her crusade to free house-elves during fourth year never truly disappeared, and she had actually ended up in a public duel with an abusive house-elf owner a year earlier that ended with Draco needing to rush her to St Mungo's after a particularly nasty Slicing Hex. Harry'd had to arrest her opponent.

" _You're an idiot," Draco told her as the Healer magically stitched the skin of her arm back together._

_Ron carried in Artie, who was dealing with a mild case of Dragon Pox. "Piss off, Malfoy."_

_Artie giggled. "Piss off, Mowfoy."_

" _Shit. Don't let Mummy hear you say that," Ron told his son, who laughed loudly and then sneezed, blowing sparks out of his nose and catching Ron's robes on fire. "Fuck, fuck! Bloody Dragon Pox! Artie, take the potion."_

" _No!" the boy screamed hysterically._

_Hermione laughed at the sight, wincing only slightly when the Healer finished on her arm. "Come see Aunt Hermione," she said and opened her free arm to the green-faced little boy._

" _Daddy said 'shit,'" Artie whispered as though it were a secret. "Mummy's gonna be mad."_

" _Yes, she is." Hermione grinned and took the potion from Ron's hands. She held it out for Artie, who took it from her without a fuss—his father looking on incredulously._

_Draco rolled his eyes. "Saving house-elves and werewolves, and now she's cuddling with a Dragon Pox-infested ankle-biter. Merlin, Granger, do you have any self-preservation or is your life all about letting the other guy get ahead?"_

She would do just about anything to save someone's life. But marriage? After all she had gone through during the war, didn't she at least deserve something romantically normal? Couldn't she have devotion like Draco and Luna? Passion like Blaise and Ginny? Love like Harry and Daphne? And . . . whatever it was that Ron and Pansy had.

Draco had said that Daphne was willing to end her engagement in order to marry Theo. That was cruel for him to throw that card on the table. Hermione almost felt as though she were being blackmailed—Harry's love life being held hostage in exchange for her own. Merlin help her, she knew she would do it too if it came down to that. Harry deserved to have his happily ever after, and Hermione would be damned if anyone got in the way of that.

Her own problems were quickly pushed aside when she arrived at her parents home, Apparating at a point down the street and walking the rest of the way. Despite saying that they were still comfortable with magic—even though they had been manipulated with it by their own daughter—Hermione knew it made them uneasy sometimes. She had Apparated into their living room once and scared her mother so badly that both of them ended up crying over the ordeal.

"How's work, sweetheart?" her father asked her over dinner.

Brown rice and steamed veggies filled up half of their plates instead of the usually delectable lasagnas her mother would make or their favourite Chinese takeaway that she knew her father preferred. While her parents did not indulge in the type of rich foods that were usually found at a Weasley Sunday meals, Hermione could not recall seeing a salad at the dinner table since she was nine. The salad currently in front of her did not even have a dressing.

She glanced up at her mother, who was far too skinny on her own to even  _consider_ losing weight, and her father had appeared to have lost a stone or two over the past few years. Hermione attributed that to the stress of finding out everything that happened during the war or, at least, what she was willing to tell them.

"Are you two on a diet?"

Her mother cracked an uneasy smile. "Don't be silly, darling," she said and moved the vegetables around on her plate, not actually eating them. "We're just trying to be a bit more health conscious."

_Lie._  Hermione knew it immediately. Working with Draco had a lot of negatives, but one pro was that she was taught how to spot a lie by a master of the trade. But why would her mother lie about food?

"What's going on?"

"How's work?" her father repeated his question. "Still getting along with that rotten little bully you went to school with?"

"What are you two hiding?"

Her mother smiled and cleared her throat. "Has Ron's wife given birth yet? Wasn't she due sometime this spring?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Next month. Why are you both lying to me?"

Sighing deeply, her father stood from the table, making his way into the kitchen and returning moments later with an old bottle of scotch and two shot glasses. He poured out the drinks, handing one to Hermione and placing the other in front of himself. Her mother tapped the table beside her with a finger and raised a challenging eyebrow at her husband. He scowled at her, silently pleading, but she tapped the table harder until he sighed defeatedly and pushed his drink to his wife and left to grab himself a new glass.

Hermione threw back the drink, figuring that she would need it.

She did.

". . . hadn't been feeling well for some time now . . . Doctors didn't know what it was . . ."

She felt the dining room walls closing in on her.

" . . . didn't want to worry you . . ."

Her heart pounded hard against her chest and she could feel the pulse in the side of her head throbbing, drowning out most of her parents' words.

". . . pain isn't so bad these days, though you can never tell if that's a good sign, or so they say . . ."

Certain words and phrases she picked up on in between heartbeats and panicked breaths but one stuck out louder than a Caterwauling Charm:

_Terminal_.

"Did  _I_ do this?" Hermione broke an awkward silence when her parents had finally stopped speaking. "Is this because of the . . ." she choked on a gasp, unable to continue speaking.

"No," her mother insisted. "It's rare, and they . . . they just don't know what to do about it anymore. It had nothing to do with you altering our memories. It has nothing to do with magic."

Hermione looked down as her mother held her hands, sitting beside her on the sofa. When had they moved into the other room? Had her mother's hands always been so small? Why was  _she_ comforting  _her_? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't she be doing something to fix this? She was a witch for Merlin's sake!

"Maybe magic can . . . We should go to St Mungo's and—"

"No."

Hermione's blurry eyes looked up and she blinked away the tears to see her father standing at the end of the sofa.

"It's not that we don't trust magic, rather . . . we've already explored that option," he confessed. "We've kept in contact with Minerva and Poppy over the years. Our checkups after you put our memories back were all done through them. So when your mother took ill, and the doctors couldn't do anything, we sought them out. Thought maybe one of your Healers could do something."

"And?"

He shook his head.

She took a breath, readying herself for battle, and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "So what do we do now?" Her parents remained silent. She widened her eyes. "What do we do now?" she asked again, this time louder.

"Nothing," her mother replied softly.

"Helen," Hermione's father whispered.

"No. Richard, get her the book. She'll want to see it."

He left the room once again returning moments later with a large three-ring binder in his hands, overflowing with papers. "This is everything regarding your mother's illness. Every prescription, notes from every doctor and specialist we've seen, extra research we've done through medical journals and calling up friends from University. The whole buggering lot of it. We knew you'd want to research it all yourself, but . . . princess, don't get your hopes up," he said through a broken voice.

"They haven't said how long I've got," her mother said, "but to be honest, I'd rather not know. I'd rather live each day as normally as possible. That's my decision and I would like everyone to respect that. Now, tell us how work is going."

Hermione frowned, trying to wrap her head around everything that she had just been told. She summoned her Gryffindor bravery, more sure than ever that had her mother been born a witch, she would have been sorted into the House of Godric. She took another slow breath and then cleared her throat. "I . . . I finally got the Wizengamot to agree to lower the cost for Wolfsbane Potion."

"Oh!" her mother exclaimed joyfully, an action that shocked the hell out of Hermione, who was still wondering how she could be so calm and collected about the prospect of dying. "Will that help . . . Lupin was it? He was always such a nice man."

Hermione slowly nodded her head, which was buzzing. "Yes, he, umm, he's the one who's been working with me and—I'm sorry, I can't . . . I can't do this."

Clutching Hermione's hand, her mother pleaded, "I need things to be normal. I don't want to be sad or afraid. I'd like to continue having a relationship with my daughter, knowing about her life and living on as regularly as possible. You grew up too fast because of circumstances you couldn't control, and I don't need you to suddenly have your life filled up with taking care of me. You're only twenty-five; you need to do normal things. I don't want regrets. I . . . I already have too many."

Looking at her mother, Hermione could finally see the cracks in the facade that was showing through tired eyes. "You'll have no regrets. I swear it."

Her mother patted her hand. "Oh, I will, and I'll make peace with never . . . never seeing . . . you have children of your own or get married or . . ." And the tears finally spilt over.

Hermione stepped back away from the sofa as her father came to take his place at her mother's side, pulling her into his arms. Standing there useless, mouth open, her brain ran a million miles a second as she tried to focus on any one thing to fix what had happened. Her mother was dying, there was nothing she could do the save her, and now she had inadvertently caused a sick woman to burst into tears. But she had to be brave. Gryffindors were brave. Brave, chivalrous, willful, daring and . . . reckless.

_Oh, this is a bad idea_. The thought ran through her brain just as the words blurted out of her mouth: "I'm engaged."

Her parents turned and stared at her wide-eyed. Her mother stopped crying.

_Well, at least_ that  _worked_ , Hermione thought to herself just as they started bombarding her with questions.

"He, umm, it was rather quick, actually. Very unlike me, yes I know," she said, feeling flustered. "His name is Theodore Nott. Yes, we went to Hogwarts together, but different Houses. What's that? Umm, Slytherin. No, not one of the boys that was mean to me. We don't really— _didn't_ —didn't really know one another well . . . back then. Daddy, could I have another drink? How'd we get together?" She started laughing nervously. "Umm, Draco, actually. Draco set us up. Set  _me_ up. Oh, thank God," she said as her father placed another drink in her hand and she guzzled it down quickly.

* * *

Hermione swore loudly as she tumbled through the designated fireplace at Malfoy Manor, green flames fading behind her. Her hair was dishevelled and her mascara smeared down her face, the lipstick she had been wearing all but vanished from sight, left behind on a scattering of random shot glasses and pints at the Leaky Cauldron where she had gone after leaving her parents house.

" _I'm getting married!" Hermione shouted to the crowded pub, raising a glass of firewhisky in toast. Cheers went up all around her, and several people bought her a congratulatory beverage._

_A wizard grinned at her from one of the tables. "Who's the lucky bloke, pretty lady?"_

" _I have no fucking idea. I don't remember ever meeting the bastard," she said with a laugh and drained the pint glass in front of her, unaware that it belonged to someone else._

_Hannah eventually pushed her through the Floo after cutting her off, likely shocked when Hermione yelled, "Malfoy Manor!" before disappearing._

"Granger? Fucking hell, are you out of your mind?" Draco shouted when he stumbled upon her, lit wand in hand. "Do you know what bloody time it is?"

"I think she's drunk, Draco," Luna said quietly as she walked up behind her husband. "I take it you told her about Theo?"

He reluctantly nodded, looking mildly guilty as Luna eyed him. Clearly they'd had a plan about how to approach the situation and he had gone off script.

Hermione giggled from her place on the cold, marble floor as the room began to spin around her, her vision going dark. "You . . . You going to be my bridesmaid, Luna? I think Harry and Ron would look terrible in taffeta."


	4. Chapter 4

**March 6th, 2004**

When Hermione woke up and found herself in a strange bedroom, she immediately began to panic. She remembered the horrible lunch with Draco and the devastating dinner with her parents followed up with a trip to the Leaky; that was where she started to lose track of her memories. Her head throbbed as she turned, pleading to the gods for reprieve. She was joyful at the sight of a vial of Pain Relief Potion sitting on the bedside table on top of a note. Forgetting everything that Mad-Eye Moody had taught her—and regardless of not knowing where she had ended up—Hermione drank the potion before even glancing twice at the parchment.

She groaned in relief as the pain slightly abated and then lazily reached for the note.

_Hermione,_

_Hope you're feeling better. We weren't sure where you'd come from before the Leaky Cauldron, so there's a Contraceptive Potion in the drawer—just in case._

_Luna_

"Fuck," Hermione threw the comforter over her head and angrily stomped her feet into the mattress. She had ended up at Malfoy Manor. Of all places. Drunk. She quietly prayed that Draco had not been the one to find her; then again, it was not as though he and Luna kept secrets from one another.

She would never live to hear the end of this.

There was a soft pop and the gentle clearing of a throat.

Hermione peeked out from under the covers and sighed irritably at the sight of a little house-elf smiling brightly at her. "Missy Granger?" it said, far too chipper for Hermione's liking. "Master—"

"Draco," Hermione corrected it.

"—and Mistress—"

"Luna."

"—have eaten theys breakfast, but theys asked Swishy to see if Missy Granger was hungry."

Hermione folded down the blanket and looked at the little elf with sympathetic eyes. "Are there any house-elves named Andrew or Clarke? Jessica or Gertrude?" It was not like she had room to judge. "Swishy, if you wouldn't mind directing me to the kitchen, I'd be happy to fix my own breakfa—" she started to say, but the elf Disapparated, leaving behind another note.

_Granger,_

_The house-elves have been instructed to do the exact opposite of anything and everything you say._

_D.M._

"Prat," she mumbled and then crawled out of bed, determined to leave before Swishy—who she was certain Luna named—came back with a meal in tow.

Cringing at the bright light from a nearby window, Hermione searched for her wand, happy to see it on the bedside table behind a vase with orange flowers in it. She made her way out of the room, shutting every window on her way to the parlour where she knew the young Missus Malfoy spent most of her time visiting with elves—or creatures as yet unseen by anyone besides Luna herself.

Hermione smiled as she entered the room. Luna was lying on the soft bench in a little nook by the window, balancing a teacup on her swollen belly and looking positively angelic. While Luna's pregnancy was pure magic, Pansy's was a living nightmare and Ron had vowed to never get her pregnant again.

Halfway through her pregnancy with Artie, Ron genuinely suggested that they have a specialist check to see if his wife had happened upon a magical creature inheritance and ended up part banshee.

" _It happens!" Ron said, dark circles beneath his eyes, half-crazed due to lack of sleep thanks to a sick and angry wife. "Fleur said that sometimes male veela don't transform until they're fully grown and then BAM! Crazy big violent birds!"_

Ginny and Hermione had tucked Ron away inside a silence-charmed room at Grimmauld Place to sleep while they treated Pansy to a spa day and a trip to a midwife where she was given magical herbs for her nausea and mood swings.

So far,  _Draco's_ only complaint during  _Luna's_ pregnancy was that she still insisted on wearing clothes around the house.

The morning sunlight was just bright enough that it did not completely make Hermione's slowly disappearing hangover worse. "Did I do anything embarrassing?" She crawled onto the bench beside Luna and curled into a ball, tugging a nearby fleece blanket up and over her legs.

"You were lovely as always, Hermione," Luna said in that sweet tone that often worried Hermione. Luna found nearly  _everything_ lovely. She fell in love with her husband when she was a prisoner in his dungeons, and now she was Lady of the Manor where said dungeons still existed—though had long since been closed off.

Hermione cringed. "How bad was it?"

"I forbade Draco from getting the camera. And I double-checked that he didn't include anything embarrassing or distrustful in the contract."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Thank you, Luna, you're really a—Wait, what contract?" she asked, sitting up straight.

"The marriage contract. For you and Theo."

"Luna . . . did I  _sign_ anything last night?"

The doe-eyed Ravenclaw smiled whimsically and said, "I saw a white pigeon flying around your flat last September."

Hermione stared at her friend, her left eye twitching. "Luna . . . did I sign a marriage contract?"

Luna nodded along to each of Hermione's syllables as she slowly spoke them for the sake of clarity. After a moment, Luna replied, "I planted some anemones and stephanotises in the garden a month late this year."

Hermione leant back and repeatedly banged her head on the wall. There was a scoffing sound from the doorway and she opened her eyes to see Draco walk through wearing expensive day robes over a casual t-shirt and high-end Muggle jeans. The image was hilarious when she remembered the first time Luna had taken him shopping in Muggle London. It took begging, pleading, and eventual threats just to get him into the store; one side-eyed wink from Luna, and he bought out their winter collection in his size.

"You're so dramatic." Draco scowled at Hermione as he walked over to his wife, placing a kiss to her forehead. "If you weren't so thick, you'd know that she's answered your question twice. A white pigeon indicates a wedding within the year, and anemones and stephanotises—traditional flowers for weddings—generally bloom in spring, but she planted a month late."

Hermione scowled at the expression on his face silently indicating that she was stupid. "You know I don't believe in Divination." Luna's earlier words filtered back through her brain and she jumped off the bench and poked Draco in the chest, emphasising each word, "A marriage contract! Malfoy, what did I sign?"

"Nothing binding," Draco said, brandishing his wand, just in case. "Yet."

"YET?" Hermione paled and all the blood felt like it rushed to her head. "Oh God, what have I done? I can't get married. I can't . . . Just because my . . ."

She stopped and remembered why she had gone drinking and what she had told her parents. Engaged. To be married. Wedding. Theo. Fuck.

"I have to get married," she whispered.

"Swishy!" Draco called, and the little house-elf appeared with a tray of breakfast pastries in hand. He plucked a danish from the tray, gesturing that the food be lowered to Hermione, who was now kneeling on the floor.

"Missy Granger needs to eat," Swishy insisted. "Would Master—"

"Draco," Hermione groaned.

"—and Mistress—

"Luna."

"—like for Swishy to feed Missy Granger?"

Hermione did not see or hear a response from either of her "friends," but she suddenly saw a small, open elf palm in front of her face holding squished pastry bits out to her as though she were a baby unicorn.

Luna giggled, Draco outright laughed, and Hermione dropped herself entirely on the floor and quietly moaned about all the poor life decisions she had made over the years—the first on her list was having befriended a Malfoy.

"Get up, Granger. Everyone should be here soon, and if you look like shit when they all arrive, Weasel's going to think that I've done something horrible to you."

"You  _have_."

"I secured you a filthy rich, brilliant—"

"Handsome," Luna added.

"Handsome," Draco agreed, sounding only slightly bitter, "pureblood, top of his class husband. Do you know how much matchmakers would charge for something like this? Get up, wash your face, and take a whip to that hair and then meet us all in the large dining room for lunch." He turned on his over-priced heel and left the parlour.

Luna stood from her perch by the window. "It'll be all right, Hermione," she said with a sympathetic smile. "If Harry has taught us anything, it's that life extends beyond the realm of our understanding."

Trying to bury down the sadness that was creeping up, Hermione sighed. Of  _course_ Luna knew; Luna knew everything. "I don't want the others to know," she said, trying not to let her voice break. "Not yet."

"Theo really is quite fit," Luna added with a grin.

* * *

The mixed group of Gryffindor and Slytherin friends gathered for lunch where Harry and Daphne politely thanked the house-elves when the meal was served. Ginny, Blaise, and Ron followed their example while Pansy listed out a number of things that she was not supposed to be eating, insisting—until Hermione glared at her and only then did she "request"—that the elves make sure her food was prepared properly.

"You can't eat green apples?" Ginny asked, raising a confused brow.

"I don't fucking know," Pansy snipped. "Your mother is a psychopath that wants to control my every move. I ate whatever the hell I wanted with Artie, and he's just fine," she said, gesturing to the almost five-year-old, who was on his hands and knees beneath the table, barking at the passing house-elves.

"You're still on the potion, right?" Blaise whispered to Ginny.

"Fuck yes."

"So . . ." Harry loudly cleared his throat. "Why are we all here? Luna's already pregnant, so I couldn't figure out what surprise you had in store."

"Or why we had to come  _here_ ," Ron said bitterly. Harry and even Hermione had long ago put the demons to rest, but Ron still had hang ups about the old manor where they were once held prisoner.

Draco casually sipped at his elf wine. "Oh, nothing important. I just wanted to make sure that the colours for your wedding are still cranberry and sage."

Harry blinked, clearly not knowing the answer. He looked at Daphne, who smiled and patted his thigh.

"Yes, Draco, the colours haven't changed."

"Red and green. Pretentious arsehole. Ow!" Ron frowned at Pansy while rubbing his arm. Pansy silently made threatening pinching fingers at him with one hand, using the other to gesture at their son who was still crawling around under the table.

"Very good. Then I suppose it's time that Luna and I present you our RSVP." Draco stood and handed over a signed card to Daphne whose blue eyes had widened, welling with tears. "Still on for September?"

Daphne took the card, looking at Hermione. "You're doing it? You're really . . . Oh, thank Merlin!" In an un-Slytherinly manner, she jumped from her seat and dashed around the table to embrace Hermione. "Thank you. Thank you!"

Harry stared at the sight in confusion. "I'm . . . missing something."

"A clue," Draco said.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked.

Blaise's mouth fell open.

Pansy actually stopped yelling and scowling. Instead, she looked mildly appeased. "You're really going to do it?" she asked, her voice a bit tense. "Did you sign a contract? I'm not getting my fucking hopes up for nothing, Granger. Draco, did you make her sign?"

Ron stood up, narrowing his eyes down at Draco. "What did you do?"

Draco looked over at Hermione who was patting Daphne on the back and frowning. "Didn't I tell you he'd jump to conclusions? I didn't do anything to her. Everyone lift their glasses. Let's toast to the happy couple."

Harry's brows furrowed. "What couple? I don't understand."

Hermione raised her glass when Daphne finally released her and went back to sit beside Harry. She looked in the glass, wishing it was firewhisky. "I'm getting married."

"What?" Ginny loudly blurted out. "To who? Merlin, it better not be that Muggle you met at the coffee shop! I don't care how pretty his eyes were, his hair looked ridiculous and that's saying something coming from me because I used to date  _him_ ," she said and pointed to Harry.

"I'm . . .  _apparently_ —" Hermione glared at Draco, who was ignoring everyone in favour of feeding Luna sugared berries from a silver spoon. "—going to marry Theodore Nott."

"The Death Eater?" Ron shouted.

"No offence taken," Draco mumbled with a grin as Luna licked the spoon clean. He leant forward to kiss away some of the berry juice that remained on her lips. "And fuck you too, Weasel."

"Fuck!" Artie shouted from beneath the table.

"Worst godfather ever," Pansy mumbled irritably, focusing on Ron instead of Draco and her son. "Would you calm down? For all you know they met years ago, fell in love, and have been carrying on some grand affair in secret."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to lie to my friends. Theo's . . ." She sighed and looked at Daphne and Blaise for help since Pansy was being . . . Pansy, and Draco was clearly preoccupied.

"Theo's cursed," Blaise offered. "It's hard to explain, but the general idea is that the Dark Lord—"

"Voldemort," Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all corrected him simultaneously.

"Whatever. He wove a curse into the Dark Mark. Just for the younger generation. Seven years after you're Marked, you die. The only exceptions seem to be Pucey and Draco," Blaise said. "And the only thing they've got in common is that they're married."

Daphne turned to Harry, squeezing his hands. Hermione wondered if that was to prevent him from reaching for his wand. "The curse drains a person's magical core. When we're married and bonded, our cores are merged. Luna and my sister are keeping Adrian and Draco alive. Curing them. Theo . . . Theo doesn't have much time left.'

"June. He was Marked just after sixth year. I was set to get mine the next summer but you killed the bloody bastard," Blaise said, looking at Harry. He raised his glass again. "Cheers for that, by the way."

"So you want Hermione to just marry the bloke? Tell him to find someone else!" Ron shouted, his face turning red.

"I'm doing it," Hermione said. "No arguing. I have . . . I have my own reasons."

Harry frowned. "Hermione, is someone making you—?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Draco snapped.

"I didn't mean you . . . specifically," Harry admitted, looking a bit ashamed of himself. "Hermione, this just isn't like you."

"Not like her to do something drastic to save someone's life?" Daphne asked pointedly.

Harry frowned in understanding. "I just don't want her to throw her life away is all."

"Watch your mouth, Potter." Pansy glared at him. "Theo's the best of us. If I wasn't married to  _this_ one," she said, gesturing to Ron, "I'd  _gladly_ run off with Nott. It's an arranged marriage. It wasn't that long ago, we'd all be put in them by our parents. It's not a big of a deal."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her and then looked across the table at Hermione. "Is this what you want, Hermione? Really?"

She stared at her best friend, thinking of her mother and of the Slytherins, her friends—and Pansy—sitting around her already preparing to grieve for their friend, who stood at death's door. There was too much grief in the world, and Draco was right: Voldemort should not be allowed to kill another person.

"If it were me, Harry," she said. "If I were cursed, and the cure was this . . . simple," she said even though it very clearly was not. "What would you do?"

Harry frowned and looked at Daphne guiltily.

She smiled at him and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "It's okay. I feel the same way about Theo. That's why I'm so happy that Hermione's doing this."

Harry nodded but remained silent.

"Right then." Draco stood up, raising a champagne flute that he conjured. He tapped his wand on the edge, duplicating it for everyone at the table; Pansy and Luna's flutes filled with juice. "A toast."

"I don't think my mother-in-law would let me drink this," Pansy said, eying the juice in her glass.

Draco ignored her. "To Hermione and Theo!"

"To Hermione and Theo," Daphne, Blaise and Luna all said happily.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny still sat there in shock.

"Umm, shouldn't Nott be here for this . . . celebration?" Harry eventually asked.

"Traditionally, yes. And now that Granger's agreed to the engagement and has signed the marriage contract—" Draco pulled a rolled up parchment from his robes. "—we can go, break through Theo's extremely complicated security wards, and convince the bastard that marrying a bossy swot is better than death!"


	5. Chapter 5

**March 6th, 2004**

Theo stared back at his reflection in the mirror and frowned. He never thought he would one day look worse than the night he had taken the Dark Mark. Taken, of course, never felt like the proper word for what had happened to him—for what happened to them  _all_. Certainly, Draco might have been a willing participant up to a year before his father had ended up in Azkaban and the Dark Mark seemed—at least to the Malfoys—like a symbol of honour and prestige instead of what it really was: a leash.

By the commonly followed standards, Theo knew he should have been the first to have the Mark imprinted upon him. He was the oldest amongst the Slytherins in his year. If Adrian, Marcus, Graham, and Cassius were an example to follow, age was the factor in choosing future Death Eaters. But some of their fathers had screwed up, none more so than Draco's, and the Malfoys had been selected to be "made an example to the others" or so the Dark Lord had claimed. Marked, initiated, and then thrown to the wolves back at Hogwarts—as opposed to the wolves housed inside Malfoy Manor.

Vincent and Greg, the simple, loyal sheep that they were, followed Draco's example by taking the Dark Mark—willingly—that following Christmas. Theo had elected to stay at Hogwarts during all the possible holidays that school year, but summer eventually approached, and going home was unavoidable.

He had been practically dragged before the Dark Lord—metaphorically of course—and was bestowed the great honour of having the Dark Mark placed upon his left forearm. Theo knew better than to physically fight back against wizards more powerful than he was.

" _Kneel,"_ the Dark Lord had instructed, and Theo felt his knees touch the marble floors. Then, he became acquainted with  _real_ pain.

The Dark Mark burned and stung and made him violently ill. Layers upon layers of magic so dark that Theo wondered if it was seeping into his very blood, turning it black like the Mark on his skin.  _Dirty blood_ , he remembered thinking. Had he not been doubled over in agony at the Dark Lord's feet, he might have rolled his eyes and scoffed loudly. Blood had never mattered to Theo. It seemed pointless.

His mother, from what he remembered of her, was overly fond of crups and bred them for show. He watched with rapt interest as she would take a fawn-coloured male and a black and tawny-coloured female, place them in a pen together during specific times, and several months later there would be tiny crups, yipping around the manor.

" _Why're you keeping those two?"_ he asked her once when she set aside two of the largest pups.

She had smiled at him and then said, " _Because they're the prettiest, and I'm going to use them to make more pretty little babies."_

It made sense. Pretty crups made pretty crups. Theo noted, however, that the pretty ones occasionally could  _also_ be the least intelligent ones that were sometimes difficult to train. Still, his mother kept them pretty and bred them for generations, down and down until one litter came out with five dead pups; the only one that lived was blind.

" _Is that puppy a squib?"_ Doting and thoughtful woman that his mother had been, she smiled and nodded because how else would she explain that she had inbred her pets so much that they eventually started dying due to health issues? " _What now?"_

" _Your father's buying a new mother crup from a lady that sells them in Yorkshire."_

Too young to understand exactly what lines were not to be crossed or when to stop a metaphor in its tracks, Theo had asked, " _Will it be Muggle-born?"_ His question, overheard by his father, had earned him a Stinging Hex to the back of the neck that nearly choked him to death when he throat swelled shut.

While he never spoke his thoughts on breeding with his parents again, Theo gained an intelligent insight and understanding of what blood was and how it lacked importance in their world, despite what his father and the fathers of his friends said. His own friends, he noted, had their reasons for blood supremacy.

Draco had been groomed to be the perfect pureblood prince his entire life, ever regurgitating back the drivel that Lucius told him. It was hard to argue with a man who told you that you should hate someone over their blood status because you were so much better than they were and would you like a Chocolate Frog and a brand new broom for being my ever obedient mirrored image? Vince and Greg pretty much believed anything and everything  _anyone_ would tell them. Pansy was threatened by anything outside of her perfect little bubble of ignorance. Daphne, Theo thought from time to time, understood how the world really worked, but she knew better than to voice her opinion on such things. She stayed quiet and pretty, pretending to be nothing more than a face to look at while she quietly plotted the safest and smartest course for her life.

The Dark Lord, he supposed, hated Muggle-borns and Muggles for a personal reason, but Theo had not exactly been keen on asking questions of a wizard who looked more beast than man and had clapped him on the back when the Dark Mark had set into his skin, telling him how honoured he should be to have been chosen.

_Don't kid yourself,_  Theo remembered thinking.  _We're nothing but cannon fodder_.

" _You have joined a wonderful brotherhood, Theodore Nott,"_ the Dark Lord had said before handing over a set of black robes, a silver mask, and pushing him toward his friends.

Greg, Vince, Adrian, Marcus, Graham, and Cassius all looked like they could vomit at any moment after watching him receive the Mark. Draco had looked that way for the whole year; apparently fucking up Dumbledore's murder had made things much, much worse for him.

_Brotherhood_. Theo silently scoffed.  _They were already my brothers_ , he remembered thinking as he looked at his fellow young Death Eaters, glad to know that Blaise had, thus far, escaped this fate.

His father had approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.

Unlike Draco, who yearned for the parental attention and approval that came with such a significant physical gesture, Theo forced himself not to flinch when his father talked about the pride that came with taking the Dark Mark and how he was to be proud to serve as a member of a cause as great as theirs. Theo had smiled politely, nodded his head in apparent agreement and reminded himself, repeatedly, that he had accepted—or at least not fought back against—taking the Dark Mark to save his own life.

The irony of that now was not lost on him.

After a quick shower that was more for the heat to warm his aching muscles than the actual need to clean, Theo made his way down the stairs to the far-too-large and impractical dining room, passing it in favour for the breakfast nook that was tucked away snugly in what use to be his father's study. After Thoros Nott was captured seven months after the final battle of Hogwarts and sent to Azkaban for life, Theo had celebrated by drinking what felt like his weight in firewhisky and then demolishing the study with an epic series of Explosion Charms. A week later when he finally sobered up, the debris from the study was vanished and the breakfast nook took its place shortly thereafter.

"Pixy," he quietly called, offering a light smile to the elf that appeared in front of him. She narrowed large eyes at the dark circles beneath his own with an expression sympathy that could rival that of his mother when he was five and had caught Dragon Pox. "Can I get a cup of tea, please?"

"Master needs be eating."

Theo shook his head. "No thank you."

"Master needs be  _eating_ ," Pixy repeated herself, her eyes welling with tears.

He sighed irritably, not in the mood to feel like pretending he was going to survive the summer just because a house-elf was sad. But he lacked the energy and the drive to argue with her. "Dry toast then, thank you." He knew he likely would not eat it, but Pixy smiled like she had accomplished some great victory and popped away to fetch his breakfast as he sat down to look over the morning mail.

Four requests for a Curse-Breaker of his skill level were sent back with his personal recommendations for others who were adequate enough to handle the job.  _On holiday,_  he wrote in each letter, offering his apologies. Telling people who sought him out that he was retiring at the ripe old age of twenty-four was just asking for busybodies to snoop their way into his personal affairs.

At the bottom of the stack of letters were at least two from Draco, one from Blaise, six from Daphne, and a Howler from Pansy that had been caught in the trap he had specifically created for such an event. Theo could not help but smirk at the sight of the red envelope, violently shaking as it was trapped in the soundproof glass box, waiting for his signal to let it just explode. He already had a headache that morning and was not in the mood for Pansy's shrill bitching.

The other letters were set aside and not even opened, but one of Draco's looked slightly intriguing. He had used red wax on the seal instead of green or silver. Anyone else would not have given the colour change a second thought, but Theo knew Draco was meticulous about consistency and upholding his image, even if that image conflicted a touch with the one he had been raised to emulate. Then again, marrying a Ravenclaw with her head in the clouds and at least one or two talents in the bedroom had a way of bringing even the most pompous of arses to reevaluate the way he lived.

Theo stared at the red wax seal on the envelope and eventually waved his wand over it, casting a series of detection spells just in case. He would not put it past even his own best friend to try and curse him into compliance. When nothing came up, he cracked the seal open, annoyed knowing that Draco had done this in an effort to get his attention.

His suspicions were confirmed in the first line of the letter:

_Theo,_

_Merlin, you're predictable. I knew you couldn't resist opening it this time. Now before you have a chance to burn this letter too, I need you to stop being an arsehole and open up your wards because I've found a way to—_

Theo flicked his wand at the parchment. " _Incendio_."

Even the  _prospect_ of hope had become boring.

He knew what was happening to him—what  _would_ happen to him.  _He_ had been the one to figure it out and put all the pieces together.  _He_ had been there for Draco's massive mental breakdown when he thought he was going to die like Warrington, Flint, and Montague.  _He_ had helped his friend get his estate in order, just in case, working himself damn near to his own breakdown trying to figure out how to break the curse to no avail.  _He_ had been there every moment for the countdown, waiting for something to happen. They had been drunk for nearly a week after the date came and went, still just waiting for his best friend to drop dead the way the others had. When Draco survived, they celebrated.

When Goyle died the following December, Theo stuck around for the funeral long enough to tell the others, "It's the witches," and then left before they could sucker him—and some poor unsuspecting and likely Imperiused woman—into something incredibly stupid.

Why he returned to Britain a few days ago . . . he was not sure.

But it was not because he had hope.

It was less than an hour after lunch—or at least after Pixy had  _placed_ a lunch in front of him and he studiously ignored it in favour of an old book, a glass of water, and a much-needed nap—that Theo felt the wards around his home being brushed up against. It was light at first, likely an owl that had not yet been redirected to the small opening in the wards just for the post.

When he felt a stronger presence against the magic he had taken weeks to install himself, Theo sat up in irritation. "Malfoy."

He stood, wand in hand, making his way to the front door where he fully intended to deal with his friend. At least, if Draco could figure out  _how_ to get through, which was highly unlikely. Frankly, Theo was impressed he had gotten  _this_ far.

When the front door was nearly kicked in due to the burst of residual magic, Theo stared, wide-eyed as Draco sauntered inside the manor, looking like bloody Alexander the Great after the siege of Tyre, ever victorious.

"How the fuck did you get in? It should have taken at least six people to get through those wards!"

"Seven, actually," Ginny Weasley said as she stepped through his front door, causing his mouth to fall open in shock at the sight. "But to be fair, I don't think Ron was trying very hard."

"And we left Luna and Pansy back at the Manor," Draco said.

"We?" Theo asked nervously, gripping his wand tight in hand.

Blaise followed in shortly behind his girlfriend.

Daphne pushed her way past them all, looking at Theo like he could break at any second. "Merlin, look at you," she said, her face contorting into one of utter sadness and sympathy. When she approached and took his face in her tiny hands to look him over in that mothering way she always had, he struggled to fight her off, but in the end just did not have the strength.

"What're you doing here, Daph? Shouldn't you be off planning your wedding?"

She kissed his cheek. "I would have married you to save your life."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't have let you."

"Good to know."

Theo looked up at the unfamiliar voice to spot all three members of the famed Golden Trio standing there. Harry Potter, who appeared very uneasy, Ronald Weasley, who was staring daggers at Theo, and . . .

Why did Hermione Granger look nervous?

His eyes widened, and he turned and scowled at his best friend. "What did you do?"

"I fixed this," Draco said smugly.

"Pixy!" Theo shouted and waited for the elf to appear. When she did, he looked down at her and said, "Please escort my  _guests_ out," and then turned to leave.

" _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Theo felt his body stiffen and fall to the floor.

Pixy shrieked.

Theo noted that she did nothing to help him, the little traitor.

"Draco!" Daphne hissed. "Look at him! That can't be good for his health!"

"Neither is dying. Blaise, roll him over so we can have a proper chat."

Theo could hear Blaise's resigned sigh. He almost looked apologetic when he rolled Theo over, but his expression was cast toward the Gryffindors, who were all staring at the scene in horror. Blaise smirked a little at Theo's scowl, frozen in place. "He's kind of sexy when he gets all angry like that, isn't he? Granger, you want to come and take a gander at what you'll be looking at across the breakfast table?"

"Hopefully for the next hundred years or so," Draco added with a dangerous tone. He knelt over Theo's body, literally straddling his legs as he leant over and came face to face with him, a sign of dominance to show who was  _really_ in charge.

Theo made a mental note to hex him in the dick later.

"I dislike change, Theo. I didn't like it when we had to put up with a new Defence teacher every year, I didn't like it when Honeydukes discontinued lemon-flavoured sugar quills, and I didn't like it each and every time the Dark Lord—" Draco paused, looking up as though he were waiting to see if any of the Gryffindors would correct him on his word choice. "—killed one of my friends. Did you really think I was going to let you just die? When we figured out how to fix it? Theo, if marrying a Muggle would save your life, I would have Obliviated you into thinking you were a magicless shopkeep utterly besotted with the idea of eloping with some random waitress and sprogging her up." He tapped his wand against Theo's head to drive the point home. "So you're going to be the obedient little arsehole, play nice with the bookworm who has agreed to marry you—contract already signed—and not let yourself die."

If he had the ability to widen his eyes through the body-bind, Theo would have done so. Hermione Granger had signed a marriage contract? What the absolute hell?

"Please, Theo," Daphne whispered, breaking him from his thoughts.

"See?" Draco said, briefly looking at Daphne before returning his eyes to Theo. "Daphne's begging you. Begging. Something I'm pretty sure she only does for Potter these days. If you let yourself die, Daphne's going to sob her little heart out, Potter's going to get huffy over the sadness of his lady love, and the rest of us will have to put up with  _that_. Not to mention whatever horrible sounds Pansy will make at your funeral."

In a strange moment of genuine intimacy between friends that Theo was certain Luna had helped bring out in him, Draco leant forward, pressed his forehead against Theo's, and very seriously said, "Do not make me bury another friend."

Draco released him from the body-bind, but Theo remained lying on the ground with the blond hovering over him. He did his best to rein in his temper, knowing that everything Draco said was right. He could not even look at Daphne right now in fear that she would burst into tears.

"Unless you plan on buying me dinner," Theo eventually said through clenched teeth, "Get. Off. My. Lap."

Draco smirked and stood up. "Good, he's back to his charming self. Granger, come say hello."

Theo sat up and sighed, resting his forearms on his knees. When he finally turned and looked at the still-silent Gryffindors, he frowned. "Not that I don't trust my friends," he said, looking specifically at Potter and Weasley, "but before anything else happens, you should check to see if Draco's Imperiused her."


	6. Chapter 6

**March 6th, 2004**

They gathered around a small circular table in the breakfast nook where Theo directed them.

"I hope you won't be offended," Granger began, twisting the hem of her blouse in her fingers as she took a seat beside Theo, "I'd like Daphne and Harry to sit in on this. Ginny and Ron are too temperamental, and frankly, someone needs to babysit Blaise."

Theo gave a slight chuckle. Had he actually cared for anything he owned inside the manor, he might have insisted Blaise leave entirely. Theft was not something he worried about, of course, but Blaise had an unnaturally curious nature; if left to his own devices, something was liable to get broken.

"And Draco? You don't trust  _him_ to look over the contract on his own?" he asked sarcastically, earning him an incredulous look.

"He believes wereducks exist," she replied, rolling her eyes.

Theo turned and stared at his best friend. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Draco glared back. "Can we get started or does there need to be more damage to my ego and reputation?"

Sitting down, Theo sighed dramatically, gesturing with his hand wearily. "By your leave."

Draco pulled out a fresh marriage contract and a quill. The previous contract that had already been signed by Granger had apparently been lit on fire the second that she had read the words "bridal bed" and "dowry." After hearing that, Theo had agreed that starting from scratch would be the best course of action, if only for the sake of argument.

"So, first order of business is the wedding date which needs to be as soon as possible," Draco began.

"Thirteen of June sounds good," Theo said, wincing when Daphne reached across Draco to smack him on the side of the head.

"Did I miss something?" Potter asked nervously, staring at his own bride-to-be.

"He was given the Mark on the thirteenth of June," she snapped.

"Given implies a gift. Can you  _give_ a curse?" Theo asked. "I had a cousin once who gave me Dragon Pox when I was little, so I suppose in some contexts the term applies correctly. The twelfth of June then."

Daphne sighed. "Theo . . ."

He frowned, trying to push down the anger inside of him over the fact that they had all just shoved their noses in his personal business. "I'm trying to be amenable here, Daphne, and give the lady enough time to think this through so she can gracefully back out."

Granger shook her head. "I won't do that."

"Of  _course_ not, you're a Gryffindor."

She turned and stubbornly narrowed her eyes at Theo. "I'm going through with this. Acting surly won't change my mind."

He took a breath and slowly exhaled, fighting the returning headache that usually appeared around this time of day. He wondered if it was too soon to take another Pain Relief Potion. An Invigoration Draught and some Pepper-Up could not hurt either.

"I don't want your pity, Granger," he said quietly. "I'm not a house-elf."

She pursed her lips and directed her gaze to the centre of the table, purposely avoiding the eye contact of everyone present. Theo took notice. By the expressions on Daphne's and Draco's faces, they caught the gesture as well. "I have my own reasons for doing this."

Draco set the quill down and glance across the table. "Well, I'm intrigued," he said with a smirk. "The plot thickens."

She looked up at him, her gaze penetrating and hard. "Shove off, Malfoy. I'm going through with this. I won't back out. And I think it's foolish to cut something that close," she added, turning her attention back to Theo. "You're already sick; we can all plainly see it, and it's not just the curse we need to worry about. Certainly, it will drain your magical core by the intended anniversary, but the symptoms you're going through now could result in a plethora of other health issues and risks."

Theo stared at her and wondered if his friends had thought of that before now. Their silence said enough. A part of him was really hoping Daphne would not strike him again. The symptoms really  _were_ the worst of it. The fatigue was crippling, but the pain was exhausting. Headaches every day, sharp pains in his muscles, and the inability to eat something and actually keep the majority of it down.

He was tired.

So tired of waiting to die.

"And my name is Hermione."

Hermione. He fought the urge to smile at her for giving him leave to call her by her name despite the fact that everyone else already did. "Eleventh of June?" he suggested cheekily.

Everyone ignored him.

"What about sometime in the middle of May?" Potter offered and then immediately received incredulous glares from everyone around the table. "What? I can't make suggestions?"

Draco shook his head. "It's unlucky to get married in May. Were you raised by animals?"

"Close enough," Potter said with a snort. "Then April. Oh God, that's just a month away."

"' _Marry in April when you can, joy for Maiden and for Man'_ ," Daphne recited with a bright smile looking far too non-threatening to be a Slytherin. "Every month has certain observances and superstitions." She appeared like a joyful Hufflepuff, hanging on the arm of Harry Potter, war hero. Few knew that her bite was much harder than the bark that people rarely, if ever, heard. She was the polar opposite of Pansy, who let  _everyone_ know exactly what she thought of them.

"What does a September wedding promise?" Potter asked.

"Riches," Draco replied, looking back down at the marriage contract as he began filling in the names, dates, and other general information.

Potter stared at Daphne. " _You_  picked our wedding date," he said, a slightly accusatory tone in his voice.

Daphne scoffed at him. "I picked September because when we have children, we can shove them all on the Hogwarts Express and then go on holiday for our anniversary. I plan ahead," she explained with no apology. "Now, Wednesday is the luckiest day to get married. The twenty-first of April?"

"Fine." Granger—Hermione—agreed. "Daphne, you'll help me plan this, right?"

"Of course!"

Theo raised his hand as though they were all back in Hogwarts. "Do I get  _any_ input here?"

"No," Draco answered coolly. "You lost the right to choose your wedding day when you disappeared for two months and then locked yourself in your own house to die alone. Now, engagement and wedding rings. You'll use traditional ones from your vault?"

Theo nodded in defeat and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't need a ring."

Looking up at her words, Theo's mouth fell open in offence. "Draco, I thought she already signed the original contract? You would have stated the rings in there."

"I did," Draco replied. "She was pissed at the time."

Theo's eyes widened. "You tried marrying me off to a drunk witch?"

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I would have married you off to a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Granger, you're getting a traditional ring," he said, pointing at her as though that made his words final. "It's a part of the binding ceremony. Speaking of the vaults though, we'll need you to either send a letter to Gringotts or go in yourself, only if you're feeling up to it, to add Granger to everything."

"What?!" Hermione yelled. She must have noticed the way that Theo winced at her volume because she offered him an apologetic glance before turning her wrath on Draco. "That's not a part of this deal. I don't want money involved."

"It has to be done this way, Granger."

"I don't want his money!"

"What a coincidence," Theo said with an irritable sigh. "I don't want it either."

Draco chuckled under his breath. "Liar. You'd be rubbish at roughing it. Granger, if Theo dies, at  _any_ point in the future—preferably a  _long_ time from now—if the money and possessions don't go to  _you_ , the Ministry will claim them, and all those government arseholes get a big payday."

"We  _are_ those government arseholes, Draco," Hermione snipped.

"Well, the Galleons won't roll  _that_ far down the hill."

Theo leant over and tapped his finger on the parchment. "Put it in the contract that if I die and Hermione wishes, the money can go to charities of her choice. The War Orphan Fund, House-Elf Liberation Front, and the Muggle-born Scholarships for Hogwarts."

Hermione's eyes widened at his words and her mouth fell open. "You know about the House-Elf Liberation Front?"

Before Theo had a chance to answer, Draco moved on. "And if  _you_ die, Granger?"

"Umm . . . I . . ." she stammered. "All of my things will go to my parents."

"It doesn't work that way. Do you have a Muggle will or a Wizarding one?" Draco asked but did not leave her room for her to answer it. "A Muggle will is pointless. If you die, goblins won't hand over anything to Muggles. You have to have a wizard or witch as an in-between."

"Fine. Harry then," Hermione said with a sigh as she looked to her right. "No offence, Theodore."

"Theo. Please. And no offence was taken. I would have done the same thing if I still had parents to leave things to. As it stands, the only people I have to leave money to in case of my death are just as wealthy, if not more so than myself, so it seemed fairly pointless," he said, gesturing to both Draco and Daphne.

While Draco continued to write out the contract, Daphne filled the brief silence. "Pixy and the other elves have kept the manor looking quite well. We can probably get Hermione all moved in within the week."

"What?" Hermione turned and stared at the blonde. "Moved in . . . in  _here_?" she asked, looking confused.

"There aren't any Dark Artifacts or anything," Theo promised her. "While you were all enjoying retaking your seventh year at Hogwarts, I took my N.E.W.T.s from home and spent the better part of eight months cleaning house. Literally."

She shook her head, her cheeks pink with obvious embarrassment. "That's not what I—I just didn't realise that . . ."

Draco laughed at her. "That you'd  _live_ with your husband? That brings up the next section . . . children."

Theo watched as Hermione braced her hands on the side of her chair. "Can Theo and I have a minute?"

Potter put a hand on her arm. "Are you okay, Hermione?"

She shook him off, looking as though she felt suffocated by the small room and the people in it. "I'll be fine. I just . . . I need to talk to Theo."

Silently, the other three stood and made their way to the door, Daphne closing it behind them.

Draco had left the contract on the table. Her eyes focused on it.

"You don't have to do this," Theo said, watching as his voice broke through her concentration.

She shook her head. "I'm doing this. I'm not backing out. I gave my word."

"I'm okay with dying. I've accepted it. I'd  _like_ to live," he confessed with a small smile. "Living is good, but you shouldn't have to sacrifice your life in exchange for mine. I'm not  _that_ much of a self-preservationist."

She smiled sadly at him. "Isn't that the biggest attribute of a Slytherin?"

"Not always. We're ambitious, cunning, and resourceful as well."

"Draco's cunning all right," she said bitterly.

Theo only nodded. "And I'm ambitious. I'm not boasting when I say I'm the best Curse-Breaker there is," he said and let the slightest slip of a smug grin cross his face.

" _We_  got through your wards," she pointed out.

"Yes, and it took  _seven_ of you to do so. Two fully-trained Aurors and Draco Malfoy, who's been keyed into the leylines of the property since he was six and skinned his knee out back by the gardens. Besides," he began and then faltered a bit, looking down at the wand he was twirling in his fingers, something he did out of habit to keep from fidgeting, "my magic hasn't been at its peak lately. If I make it past June—"

"You will."

"—and my magic returns to me, I'll be paying Draco back for that scene earlier. Binding me," he said with an irritated growl. "What a prat."

Hermione exhaled and looked over at the parchment still there in front of them. "Should we finish the contract ourselves?"

Theo sighed, really not wanting to do this. He felt pitiful and weak, suckered into a marriage because he could not figure out how to save himself. Of  _course_ Hermione Granger would save him. That was what Gryffindors like her did. "I don't expect anything from you. You don't have to . . . Children are—"

"It's fine," she said quickly, obviously embarrassed over how she'd panicked minutes earlier. "It hadn't occurred to me is all. But this is for life and . . . Fidelity Charms are woven into binding rituals so it's not like you or I could—"

"I  _wouldn't_ ," he said, interrupting her. "My word is my bond."

"You don't just want a marriage of convenience?" she nervously asked.

Hermione found herself staring at his eyes wondering if they would brighten if—no,  _when_ —his magic returned to full strength. They were blue, but not bright cerulean like Ron's or ice blue like Daphne's. Instead, they were a light sapphire colour that reminded her of the ocean, with little flecks of brown near the pupil that made his eyes look like the earth exploding from the inside out, water rushing to the outer edges.

"I hardly think  _any_ of this is convenient. If something is, then it should be. Not appear as though it is under false pretences. You may do as you wish; I wouldn't dare control another person, but my mother taught me that when I marry, it's for life. I'm to treat my witch with respect and honour.  _If_ we marry," he said, letting that "if" hang in the air between them, "then I am, effectively, yours."

_Mine_. Hermione nervously swallowed. "W-What did your father teach you?"

Theo's smile faded, and his bright blue eyes dimmed. "What  _not_ to be."

She winced a bit and then sucked in a gulp of air to collect herself. "I . . . Fine, let's . . . let's be adults about this then," she suggested. "Children?"

Theo sighed and ran a hand through his dark brown hair that fell in that attractively messy way that Harry's hair often attempted but failed at. "I never put much thought into it, to be honest. I didn't think I'd survive the war, and then with this curse . . . I wouldn't want to—I mean . . ." He groaned in frustration. "Bloody Draco and his imposing arse."

She smiled, feeling oddly comfortable for the first time in what felt like days. "At least we have a few things in common. A distaste for Malfoy, for instance."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Right now it's  _much_ more than a distaste. I think when he walks back in this room I'm going to hit him."

"I've done that before," she said with a happy tone, something that had been missing all morning. "It feels amazing. Make sure to keep your thumb on the outside of your hand." She reached over and took his hand within hers to position his fingers as she explained.

Theo brushed the pad of his thumb against her knuckles, and her breath caught in her throat.

"Hermione," he whispered. "You do know that a marriage binding ritual is only completed with—"

"Consummation," she finished his sentence quickly—much louder than she had planned—and pulled her hand away from him to scratch the back of her neck. "Yes, I . . . I remember reading something like that when Pansy and Ron got married."

"Not like consummation was a problem for  _them_ ," he said with a smirk.

"Will it . . . ?" She paused as a thought occurred to her. "I mean, I didn't even think to ask if you—"

Theo raised a curious brow. "You wondered if I found Draco and Blaise more appealing than you?" he asked, raising his brow and chuckling when she cringed in embarrassment. She could feel her cheeks warming over; her face must have been bright red. "Well, I can't speak for Blaise, as he's not yet popped the question to Red, but I think Draco is spoken for." His smirk turned into a full grin. "To ease your curiosity, though, I prefer witches."

_He's not ready to die_ , she thought as she watched him smile.

"Good. Me too." Hermione's eyes widened as she heard the words come out of her mouth. "I mean wizards! _"_ She put her hands over her face to hide her mortification. When she heard the low chuckles coming from him, she groaned. "You're laughing at me."

Theo pulled her hands away from her face. "You're blushing," he pointed out, looking suddenly very smug, as though her outburst had somehow stroked his ego. She felt simultaneously happy that she had brought about such a change in him while also a bit irritated that he had finally shown his true Slytherin self.

"I'm nervous," she admitted, rubbing her cheeks. "I'm probably bright red."

"I'd say pink." Theo smiled at her. "And I think it's very pretty."


	7. Chapter 7

**March 7th, 2004**

The day after the marriage contract was signed and sent to the Ministry for approval, Hermione Apparated to the front steps of Nott Manor, surprised that she did not have to fight her way through the security wards this time.

A part of her wanted to cancel, but when she stopped in to see her parents and ate a hearty but healthy breakfast only to be shoved out the door when her mother got sick and begged to not be seen like that, it shattered Hermione's heart. Just outside her childhood home, she steeled her nerves and did her best to preserve her mother's dignity, ignoring her father when he insisted that she bring her  _fiancé_ over for dinner sometime very soon so they could start planning the wedding.

Good God, the  _wedding_. How had she talked herself into this?

"You don't have to go through with it, you know," Theo said as they sat together in the small breakfast nook of Nott Manor.

She had been given a tour of the east wing of the large manor which included a ballroom, two separate dining rooms, eight guest rooms, two studies, and a swimming pool. She knew there was a library and had a feeling that Draco or Daphne had told Theo to save that for last, as though books would be the clincher that would keep her determined not to break the marriage contract before she was bonded to him.

"Coffee?" She raised a brow as though she did not know what he was actually talking about. She pursed her lips as she held three lumps of sugar in her hand, hovering over the liquid. "It's really not that complicated. Just add a little milk. All I need now is sugar. I'm halfway there, and you want me to stop now?"

Theo rolled his eyes, and she saw the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. "That's not what I meant."

She smiled and dropped the sugar in her cup and stirred it around with a silver spoon, sucking the liquid off of the end before placing it down on the table.

"I know." She took a sip from her cup, watching curiously as he occasionally swirled the contents of his tea, but never drank. "Are you going to try to get me to back out of this marriage  _every_ time I see you? I can't help but think that's going to get annoying after a while. Please don't make it a part of your vows."

He chuckled, and Hermione found she very much liked the sound of it. Slytherins were complicated, and she found they all had their own issues that she liked breaking through. Pansy was cold and untrusting, so when she had finally gotten the witch to take her to lunch in a Muggle restaurant, Hermione felt victorious. The first time she was able to get Draco to call her by her first name without a mocking tone, she had actually celebrated.

Making Theo smile gave her the same feelings of triumph.

"I'm just trying to be polite."

"Am I  _that_ horrible? I mean, I know that we didn't know one another well or . . . not at all really in school, and I assume Draco was quite a blabber mouth when it came to the subject of me."

"He was actually a lot more talkative about Potter," Theo said, rolling his eyes. "For a while there, all the Slytherins in our year had a bet going on when he'd come out and admit his undying love for the Chosen One. I won ten Galleons from Blaise when it was obvious that Draco was straight. Then again, I cheated because I'd caught him and Pansy having sex at the end of fourth year."

She grimaced at the image that popped into her mind at that. "Gross."

He laughed. " _You_  didn't have to see it."

"I've caught her and Ron," she confessed after swallowing another gulp of coffee. "I can still say gross."

They shared a quiet moment of amusement before Theo admitted, "I never hated you. I never cared about blood status or any of that rubbish."

Her smile faded at his words. "You were—are . . . I . . . This is complicated. I don't know what to make of you. You're a Slytherin, but—and no offence to your friends—you're the least creepy and bastardly one I've met with the exception of Daphne."

Theo grinned, clearly taking her words as a compliment. "She once turned Goyle into a toad and tried to trick Longbottom into thinking it was his familiar. Don't think Daphne is some innocent little misplaced Ravenclaw or something. She's formidable."

Hermione's eyes widened at the tale, and she made a mental note to ask Daphne—and perhaps Neville—about it later. "But Draco's always been a prat. Even Blaise was an absolute snob in school who wouldn't give a Muggle-born the time of day unless she had a good looking half-blood friend that he wanted to shag. Pansy's never been quiet about her opinions," she said and then looked up at him, once again finding herself looking at the variations of colour in his eyes. "And then there's you. I don't know who or what you are or where you stand, Theo Nott."

He swallowed as he stared at her as though she were a puzzle he was wanting to figure out as well. "So ask me. Isn't that what these little coffee dates were supposed to be for?"

" _We're getting married in a little over a month," Hermione had told their friends when she and Theo had exited the breakfast nook the day before, marriage contract in hand._

_When it was clear that she was starting to panic, Daphne took over and insisted that Theo and Hermione meet together, alone, at least once a day in order to get to know one another._

_Draco had teased her over it and said something about how the world would not always bend to the needs of Hermione Granger just because things made her uncomfortable, and then he started quoting statistics about arranged pureblood marriages, and how she and Theo should stop being babies about the situation._

_She made a mental note to put a duck in his office Monday morning._

"Getting to know one another. Yes." Hermione nodded, drinking another sip of her coffee and once again taking note that Theo had not touched his tea. "You don't care about blood status?"

He shook his head. "No. Never have."

"Why?"

He stared at her incredulously. "Because I'm intelligent enough to know that it doesn't mean anything? We were all educated by our parents, that's where children receive the foundations of their knowledge.  _Our_ parents, meaning the Slytherins of our year, were prejudiced blood purists who likely were only that way because  _their_ parents were the same. It continues to go back and back until the original fear of Muggle-borns was created." He shook his head as though this were a subject he had talked about before and found appalling. "And really, who knows what  _that_ was because any detailed accounting has been diluted over the years and twisted to serve the purposes of whoever's telling the tale.

"Our parents taught us to hate Muggles and Muggle-borns. They all added their own little notes on the lessons as well. Daphne's parents were a little more relaxed about it with her and Astoria so long as they didn't  _marry_ beneath them."

Hermione snorted at that. She knew for a fact that Daphne's parents were  _thrilled_ that she was going to become  _Harry Potter_ 's wife. Certainly not beneath her, half-blood or not.

"Blaise's mother taught him that Muggle-borns were useful but disgusting," Theo continued, rolling his eyes as he spoke. "Pansy's parents taught her that Muggle-borns were magic thieves who needed to be punished. Draco . . . well, we all know that the Malfoys have an over-inflated ego. He was taught that he was above everyone, which included even the rest of us purebloods; it made it very difficult to be his friend in the beginning."

"It's  _still_ difficult," she told him.

He grinned at her, and she felt a strange nervous flutter in her stomach.

"He was told that Muggle-borns were lowest of the low, and to interact with them would sully him. Mindless indoctrination of children." Theo finally brought the cup of tea to his lips and drank. " _That's_  what's disgusting."

She smiled at him, wondering if all conversations with her future husband would be this interesting. He was intelligent, which was one of the traits that Draco had told her about when he first tried to suggest to her this insane arrangement. A part of her wanted to be hopeful.

"So what about you? How did you escape it?"

"I didn't," he said, and his jaw tightened. "But my father tried to teach me to hate Muggles and Muggle-borns at the end of a belt. Turns out it just taught me to hate  _him_ and everything he stood for."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "I . . ."

"Don't pity me."

She shook her head, thinking of Remus and Sirius for some reason. The moment that Sirius's name was cleared of all charges, he moved out of Grimmauld Place, gifting it entirely to Harry. He said that he could not stand to be in his childhood home for another minute due to the memories there. He moved in with Remus the very next day. The remnants of abuse were obvious in Harry's godfather.

"I wouldn't pity you," she said, not knowing how much of her believed her own words. "I was just surprised is all. So, if you thought that way, how did you still end up in Slytherin?"

He shook his head, not bothering to hide the fact that she had clearly offended him. "It's not just a House for pricks, you know."

"I know," she said, wincing. "I'm sorry; that was rude of me."

"Understandable," he said with a tone of forgiveness. "Especially considering what my House put you through over the years."

"Not all of them. Mostly Draco and Pansy, and I've clearly forgiven them."

"Have you?"

She thought about the question and sighed. "I have my moments. I can logically see that they were just children and, for the most part, they didn't know better. They eased up over the years, so I assume that it was their brains actually putting the pieces of puzzles together."

He drank another sip of his tea, and Hermione smiled and noted the warmth of the liquid brought a little more colour to his cheeks.

"I tried to educate them when I could."

"You?  _You're_  the reason that they started to change?"

"Let me ask you, how did it feel being the only intelligent person in Gryffindor?"

Her mouth popped open, and she scowled at him. "That's not fair. I wasn't—"

"I was in classes with you, Hermione," he said, cutting her off. "You  _were_. At least in the beginning. The rest of your House was too busy playing Exploding Snap, talking about Quidditch, or blowing up cauldrons to crack a book.  _You're_ the reason that they started though, aren't you?"

She tried to hide the slight ego boost she felt at his words but did not disagree with him. She did, however, try to downplay her actions. "I didn't want Harry and Ron to fail."

He laughed, and the sound was loud and full of life, which was nice considering he still looked to be on Death's front door. "You were  _that_ worried about their O.W.L. scores, were you? Or were you yearning to have people on the same level of understanding things as you. Someone you could relate to and talk to?"

She gently worried her bottom lip between her teeth for several seconds and then quietly conceded, "A little bit of both."

"Well, I was the same way. Only, to my knowledge, Potter and Weasley  _complained_ about you helping them while  _my_ friends had to pay for the privilege of my tutelage."

Her eyes widened. "They  _paid_ you to tutor them?"

"Perhaps tutelage may not have been the right word. They paid me to stay on top of them in regards to their studies. I was available to help if necessary, but most of them were too prideful to ever ask which only made them study harder."

Memories of her doing the same thing to Ron and Harry over their six years at Hogwarts flooded through her mind. Constant reminders of assignment, keeping on top of them to see that they had finished their Divination journals and constellation charts, rewriting their essays, and teaching them Spell-Checking Charms when Fred and George's quills stopped working. All the while, the boys complained and whinged about her mothering them.

"They  _paid_ you to lecture them about doing their homework? How did you get them to do that?"

Theo grinned proudly. "I might have started a rumour that if a witch or wizard didn't pass enough O.W.L.s, the Ministry placed a spell on them that slowly turned them into a Squib."

Hermione snorted. "Who would believe something that ridiculous?"

"Crabbe and Goyle," he said. "Once I got them terrified enough about losing their magic, word spread throughout the House, and then it became a thing of peer pressure. Draco, Blaise, and everyone else knew it was absolute rubbish, but they weren't going to be the odd ones out by taking a stand. Thus, decent O.W.L. scores, friends who talked about something other than Quidditch, and extra points for my House because we were all actually able to answer the questions in class. Though  _you_ put quite a damper in my plans to win the House Cup each year."

"You used propaganda to trick your own friends into doing something right," she said, shaking her head in shock. "That's . . . God, am I going to be the wife of the Minister for Magic one day?"

Theo laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Depends if you decide  _not_ to marry me.  _I'm_ perfectly happy in my own little Curse-Breaking world."

She smiled. "Tell me about that."

"Nope. I've been talking non-stop. It's your turn. Tell me about your job."

She drank another sip of her coffee which was finally growing cold. "I work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Beings, right? Why  _that_ Division? I wouldn't lump you in with the rest of the witches in our year that doted upon unicorns. Generally, people veer toward the Beasts in the D.R.C.M.C., don't they?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's because every little boy wants to grow up to be a dragon tamer, and those that don't qualify want to regulate and restrict those that do. I went into the Beings division to help take a stand for werewolf and house-elf rights."

He smiled affectionately. "I remember the house-elf issue from school. You had them all terrified, did you know that?"

She blushed at the memory and looked down in mild embarrassment. "I do now."

"So you're not trying to free them all?" he said, teasing her. "Pixy will have words with you over that."

"No," she told him. "I don't like the idea of owning elves or  _any_ Being. But I have come to respect the bonds that occur between house-elves and wizards. Now, I just try to make sure that they're treated well and not abused. Pixy looks well-cared for."

"Not on my account," Theo admitted. " _She_  takes care of  _me_ ," he said, but his tone did not imply the usual way a house-elf cared for their master. He actually looked guilty over his words, as though he was a burden on his elf. "So what about the werewolves?"

Hermione smiled. "Our third year Defence professor was, er . . .  _is_ a werewolf. He's now the head of the D.R.C.M.C. and a very good friend of mine."

"So you've a personal interest," Theo said and finished his cup of tea. "Tell me, do all Gryffindors just go around saving people?"

She shrugged. "Some people need to be saved."

He frowned. "Like me."

She stared at him for a moment, noting that the tea was all gone, and she felt as though she had somehow contributed to something monumental by distracting him long enough to actually get him to drink it. It was not nutritious by any means, but he looked so terribly sick and she could not help but think of her mother and wonder if she had gone through bouts of illness like this where she was unable to eat or drink anything.

The thought made everything ache inside, and she tried to rein in her emotions before Theo started asking questions.

"If it makes you feel any better," she said softly, "maybe one day I'll let  _you_ save  _me_."


	8. Chapter 8

**March 8th, 2004**

Monday morning came, and Hermione prepared herself for work like it was any other day, doing her best to forget that she was engaged to a man she barely knew, who also happened to be a former Death Eater and was, in fact, dying because of it. She also tried to forget that her mother was also dying due to a rare terminal illness that Muggle doctors were struggling to fight.

After her meeting with Theo the day before, she had gone home and devoured three more cups of coffee and the research binder her father had given her. After looking over every inked mark, every doctor's notation, every prescription, and scan, Hermione slammed the book shut and left her flat in a temper.

She had Apparated to the nearest legal point close to the local Muggle neighbourhood and walked to the public library in the hopes that she could find some helpful books on pathology. She also had wanted to use their computer so that she could order some books and send out emails to specialists that her parents perhaps had not been able to get in touch with.

After getting word back from her father early that morning that her mother was having a good day and was in good spirits, Hermione relaxed and left for the Ministry, eager to bury her worries in paperwork and pretend the last three days had not happened.

She was sorely disappointed.

"Granger! Malfoy!" Amos Diggory called.

Sighing and stretching her neck after staring at the same piece of Wolfsbane patent information for the last hour, Hermione was eager for a reprieve, even if it meant dealing with Malfoy and Diggory. Unfortunately, it was not Amos who she was going to be dealing with.

"Lupin wants you both in his office," Diggory said, gesturing to the closed door that read,  _Remus Lupin, Head of D.R.C.M.C_.

She politely ignored Malfoy's "Good morning, Granger" and knocked on the door once before walking in to spot Remus sitting at his desk, fingers laced together and a worried look on his face. Normally, that expression meant there had been a werewolf attack, and Hermione would soon be sent to interview witnesses and possibly arrange for the care of any survivors. But Kingsley and Harry were standing beside Remus, the Minister looking angry and Harry appearing annoyed.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I tried to explain but—" Harry began.

"Someone from the Administration and Records Department filed a complaint this morning," Kingsley said, pushing a piece of parchment across Remus's desk. "They said that there was a chance Hermione Granger was being Imperiused or had been given a Love Potion."

Hermione, unable to stop herself, burst into laughter.

"I take it  _I'm_ the accused poisoner?" Draco drawled irritably from behind her. "Are we sure it's a Love Potion I slipped her? Looks to be more like an Alihotsy Draught. Causes hysteria."

Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "This is not a joke, Mr Malfoy."

" _She_  thinks it's funny," Draco pointed out.

Hermione took a breath and sighed as she sat down across from Remus, looking up and smiling at him. "How are you? Have any of these rotten men—" She lazily gesturing to the wizards in the room "—even asked if you're doing well after Saturday's full moon, or did they just heap piles of rubbish on your desk and tell you that I needed to be looked after?"

Remus smiled kindly at her. "I'm good, Hermione, thank you. But I am worried. This document says that you've signed a marriage contract to a known former Death Eater."

" _Former_  Death Eater," Draco said and then stopped himself, "Oh, you said that. Apologies. I'm a little too used to correcting people." He sighed loudly and took a seat next to Hermione. "So, I assume Potter explained the circumstances of the arrangement?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I was told I was too close to the situation but, since I didn't want gossip spreading around the Ministry and Kingsley needed an Auror present, I volunteered. It's better me than Ron, trust me."

"There's no problem, Minister," Hermione assured Kingsley. "The documentation is correct. I signed a marriage contract this weekend with Theodore Nott. Draco had the papers drawn up, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all present. Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass were there as well. I have not been Imperiused, and I've not consumed any forms of a Love Potion."

"Hermione," Kingsley said. "It was suggested that—"

"Who filed the complaint?"

"The file clerk that was on duty this morning. Marietta Edgecombe," Kingsley replied.

"Nosy bitch," Hermione muttered. "She signed the non-disclosure agreement when she came to work here, didn't she? If anyone would try to get out of one of those, it would be her. I know, I wrote the bloody thing myself when the Department Head heard I had a talent for layering hexes in paperwork."

Kingsley shook his head. "Miss Edgecombe has signed all paperwork and claims that she was only looking out for your best interest when she saw that—"

"Does she still wear her hair in front of her forehead?" Hermione asked, trying not to laugh.

She might have felt bad for Marietta, but the girl had never been pleasant, and she called Hermione a cunt for suggesting that she needed to apologise for telling Umbridge about Dumbledore's Army. Hermione had not even been able to tell her that a vocal apology would actually remove the jinx from her face.

Harry chuckled loudly, forcing himself to cover his mouth when the Minister for Magic turned and glared at him.

"Sorry," Hermione said. "I'm sure Miss Edgecombe was very concerned for my well-being when she saw I was getting married," she said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. "Shocker, Hermione Granger, betrothed to wealthy pureblood."

Remus cleared his throat, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as he said, "Hermione, unfortunately, because someone  _has_ filed a complaint of this nature, suggesting that you've been magically compelled to sign this paperwork, we're forced to investigate. Since there's no evidence, I've asked to keep this within the Department and have only those of us present handle this unless . . ."

"Unless—after an interrogation—it turns out that I've done something to Granger," Draco finished the sentence and scoffed, clearly offended. "Fine, pass over the Veritaserum so I can get back to work. And we're both still on the clock for this. I'm not having my pay docked because some bint down in Administration pointed the finger of blame in my direction."

"No," Hermione said. "If you're going to use a Truth Serum, I request Loqi Facilis. Fred and George make it, I know the Ministry keeps it on hand, and it's known to be less traumatising on the ingester. I'll answer questions truthfully, but I'm not spilling all my secrets, especially considering this has to do with my personal life," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest and making an indignant huffing noise.

Kingsley nodded in agreement and then turned to look at Harry. "Would you?"

Harry nodded and left the room to fetch the modified Truth Serum.

"So . . ." Remus said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence. "When's the wedding?"

Hermione grinned at him, pleased more than ever that he had been given this position. She could not imagine being forced to deal with this situation with an annoyed Amos Diggory sitting in front of her. "Twenty-first of April. Two weeks before a full moon, so you'll be able to attend, and I hope you will. Perhaps Teddy could be our ring bearer."

Remus's widened eyes said that he was surprised by the date announcement, but he chose not to question her about the quick wedding. Hermione assumed he did not want to imply that she might be pregnant and would likely offend her by asking questions.

"He'll love that. What colours are you going with? Dora and I could ask him to match his hair."

Hermione smiled brightly, happy to have one person in her life that was not going to make a big deal out of this situation. She did not have a chance to answer him as Harry walked back through the door, carrying two small phials in his hand filled with a pink fizzing liquid that distinguishing itself from the usual demeanour of Veritaserum.

"Does it still taste like pina colada?"

Harry laughed as he handed her the potion, shaking his head watching as she downed the liquid.

She looked up expectantly at Kingsley while Harry handed the second phial to Draco.

"What is your name?" Kingsley asked her to verify that the potion worked.

Hermione struggled to say a lie as was protocol, but the Truth Serum fought back. "Hermione Jean Granger. Nott soon, I suppose," she added. "I haven't decided yet if I'm changing my name. Are there laws about that?"

Draco was the one to answer her. "No, but it's tacky if you don't. Any heirs born should have Theo's name. Speaking of names, mine is Draco Lucius Malfoy. And I'm offended that I have to go through this process. For all we know  _Potter_ could have poisoned Granger."

Harry glared down at Draco. "Excuse me?"

"What? It would be the perfect crime. Who would suspect  _you_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Next question please."

Kingsley sighed irritably and held out a copy of her marriage contract. "Hermione, did you willingly sign a contract agreeing to enter into a marriage with Theodore Nott, known Death Eater?"

" _Former_  Death Eater," Hermione corrected him. "And yes, I willingly signed that contract. Wrote up a good portion of it too. You'll notice that if Theo and I  _both_ die," she said, tapping her finger on a specific clause on the paper, "our combined vaults are to be split between several charities."

"Were you blackmailed or otherwise tricked into this arrangement?"

Hermione took a moment to think about her answer, grateful that she had requested this specific Truth Serum that only prevented lies instead of forcing the truth. "No," she said and then added. "I signed this agreement of my own free will."

Kingsley, probably suspicious of her answer, looked at Draco. "Draco, did you blackmail or otherwise trick Miss Granger into signing this contract?"

Draco bit down on his lip until it bled before he hissed out, "Yes."

"Ugh," Hermione groaned. "Okay, so there was a  _little_ bit of blackmail in the beginning, but I signed the agreement of my own free will and not because Malfoy tricked me. He was just being an arse about it."

Remus furrowed his brows and leant across the desk. "Hermione, I haven't heard one word about you and Mr Nott. Have you been dating?" he asked curiously, his tone implying that he was a friend and not interrogator.

"Not long," she replied.

"Are you in love with him?" Kingsley asked, also curious.

Hermione growled. "Not  _yet_."

"You think you could be?" Harry asked, clearly forgetting that she was under the Truth Serum.

Hermione glared at him, hoping that he pissed himself in fear of her for being nosy. "I . . . c-can see a future where—Fuck. Yes! Okay? Damn you, Harry! Yes, I could very easily fall in love with Theo. He's brilliant, and I enjoy talking to him, and Luna's right, he's incredibly fit." She let the words spill out of her mouth. When they were done, she stood and walked over to punch her best friend in the arm. "I'm on Truth Serum, you arse! Don't ask me unofficial questions!"

Draco was laughing. "Granger, in love with a former Death Eater? Merlin, this is fun."

She turned and punched him in the arm as well before looking back at Kingsley. "Is my romantic life done being put on trial now? I'm marrying Theo Nott, and my reasons are my own personal business. I'm not in danger. Malfoy was a prat when he suggested the arrangement, but I chose to go through with it on my own. Now, as my future marriage does not stand in the way of my job, may I return to it,  _sir_?"

Kingsley, looking thoroughly chastised by a witch half his age and size, nodded his head.

"Actually," Remus said, wincing. "Maybe you should stay in here until the potion wears off. Draco, you're free to leave. I highly doubt you conceal your feelings about people in the Department even when you're  _not_ on a potion."

Hermione smiled as she watched Kingsley, Harry, and Draco leave, closing Remus's door behind them. Once the door was shut, she pressed her forehead on Remus's desk and groaned loudly. "God, I was really hoping to not have to deal with this today."

"So," Remus said leaning back in his chair, "do you want to tell me what's  _actually_ happening?"

Hermione realised that he had asked the question in such a way that she could avoid speaking about the marriage contract if she actually wanted to, but frankly, she had always trusted his perspective. "Can I ask you not to tell anyone what I say?"

Remus nodded. "For the girl who didn't tell anyone that I was a werewolf her third year?"

"To be fair, I  _did_ eventually tell Harry and Ron." After sharing a small smile with him, all brief joy fled her when she said, "My mum's dying."

Remus's smiled faded instantly as well. "Oh, Hermione." He stood and rushed to the other side of the desk, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head, fighting back the urge to cry. She hated crying and was not in the mood to walk back to her desk looking glassy-eyed and puffy. "They've already exhausted Muggle and magical means. Right now, she says she just wants to live her life as normally as possible. Doctors and Healers say there's no way to tell when she'll take a turn for the worse, so pretty much just enjoy the time while she has it."

"Do you need time off work?"

Hermione laughed, not feeling the emotion behind the noise. "She'd throw a fit if I stopped working to dote on her. They barely want me around the house as it is. I'm only allowed over if I'm there to visit, have our weekly family dinner or, as of this weekend, I'm supposed to bring Theo by."

He stared at her for a quiet minute before asking, "Do you want to tell me what's going on with the marriage?"

"Theo needs a wife. I don't want to get into the details because, frankly, they're not mine to give. It would be like Tonks telling the world the details of your lycanthropy," she said and smiled sadly when understanding seemed to click in his gaze. "But I agreed to go through with it because, in the heat of the moment, I recklessly told my dying mother that I was already engaged when she started crying about how she'd never live long enough to see me get married and have children."

Remus cringed. "Ouch."

"Yeah."

"You could tell her the truth," he suggested. "You can still get out of this."

Hermione shook her head. "I've thought about it and . . . I could do a lot worse than Theo Nott. He's a good man. I'm actually quite sad that the war and House rivalries made it so I was never able to befriend him at Hogwarts. I might have had actual help revising for O.W.L.s instead of keeping on top of Ron and Harry and then—"

"Having a complete and utter nervous breakdown?" Remus suggested with a grin.

She narrowed her eyes at him but smiled. "Getting a little  _overwhelmed_ ," she corrected him and laughed. "Oh, Remus. What have I gotten myself into?"

"A marriage," he said smirking. "It's not so bad, you know. Someone to share your thoughts with at the end of the day. Someone warm to sleep beside. Love is a nice thing, and I'm sure it'll come to you if you work at it."

"Sex isn't half bad either, is it?"

Remus laughed, scratching awkwardly at his beard. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything but . . ."

"Thank you. I needed someone not to make a big deal about this. Someone to just tell me that I've made my decision, and I can go through with it. Harry and Ron hover, and as much as I love Ginny and even Daphne, they can be overwhelming."

"The wise old werewolf gives sage advice," Remus said with a grin. " Now get back to work."

Hermione smiled and stood up, giving him a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

She left Remus's office and took a break since her emotions were still so close to the surface. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally burst into tears after finally confessing to someone about her mother.

After a peaceful twenty minute walk through the Ministry where she tuned out all the other people around her, Hermione returned to her desk to find an enormous vase filled with daffodils, gladioluses, and irises. She smiled at the flowers, glad to not see something cliche like red roses.

As she read the attached card, Hermione felt a blush creep across her cheeks.

_Hermione,_

_Draco owled me after your meeting this morning and informed me that you angrily bossed about the Minister for Magic for my sake. I wonder in this strange situation we've found ourselves in, when you'll allow me to do something for you. Meet me for dinner?_

_Contractually (Kidding) Yours,_

_Theo Nott_


	9. Chapter 9

**March 8th, 2004**

"So . . . what's the problem?" Ginny asked as she stood next to Daphne in front of the open closet door.

Hermione was kneeling down on top of a large pile of clothes—most outdated according to both of her girlfriends—frantically digging through the garments, muttering something about a white blouse. "Or should I wear the green one? Is that too obvious? Will it look like I'm trying too hard?"

"Oh sweetie, I think  _this_ ," Daphne said with a frown as she gestured to the entire scene in front of her, "looks like you're trying too hard."

"Why are you  _trying_ in the first place?" Ginny asked. "He's  _going_ to marry you. There's little to no choice in the matter for him. I know it's a shit situation to begin with, but you've basically landed yourself a pink tap-dancing unicorn of a husband."

"She's right." Daphne laughed at the imagery. "Sort of. Do you know how much of a struggle it is to get Harry to go out in public? Even in Muggle areas where he won't be recognised?"

"Like pulling teeth?" Hermione asked.

Daphne's eyes widened. "What?"

Hermione sat up and pushed the frizzy hair that had fallen in her face back behind her ears. "It's a Muggle saying. It means something that is very difficult, like pulling someone's teeth," she explained. At Daphne's horrified expression, she went on, "Because pulling teeth out is difficult. At least without proper anaesthetic and dental tools. It's actually a very interesting process if—"

"Muggles pull out your teeth?" Daphne shrieked. "I thought that was just a scary story that children told around bonfires! What  _else_ don't I know?"

Ginny smirked, far too amused for as panicked as the blonde clearly was. "They like to tie ropes around their waists and jump off of bridges. For fun."

"Without brooms?"

Ginny nodded.

"Harry's not going to make me jump off a bridge, is he?" Daphne asked Hermione, looking a bit terrified. Behind her, Ginny was struggling to contain herself.

Hermione stared at her two female friends, disappointed that Luna could not make it tonight. Then they could have had a complete shared mental collapse. "This is why I was friends with boys in school," she muttered irritably under her breath. "Daphne, I need you to focus. I don't know what to wear. Theo invited me out on a date and I have no idea where he's taking me, therefore, I don't know how to dress."

"I'd make a point that you don't know how to dress, for Theo or not." Ginny plucked out a denim maxi skirt with a grimace. "Didn't you buy this the summer before  _sixth_ year?"

Hermione snatched the skirt out of Ginny's hands. "It still fits, and getting rid of it would be wasteful. Not everyone lives off of Harpies Galleons."

Daphne thumbed through the hangers, spotting multiple faded Quidditch t-shirts and jerseys. "Hermione, I'm fairly certain that half of the things in your wardrobe belonged, at one point or another, to Harry or Ron. I understand that their clothes are much more comfortable, and Theo might be agreeable to a lot of things considering he's a bit more laid back than the rest of the Slytherin boys I grew up with, but I think even  _he_ will take issue with you wearing something that has 'Potter' or 'Weasley' embroidered on the back of it," she said and pulled out two separate Gryffindor jerseys.

"I have one of those," Ginny said with a grin as she gestured to the Potter jersey. "Harry grew out of a bunch of these sixth year, so Hermione and I snatched them up. Blaise throws a fit whenever I wear it. Leads to some amazing angry sex."

Hermione kicked at the pile of clothes in frustration. "I'm wearing yoga pants and my Weasley Christmas sweater," she said in defeat, crumpling to the ground. "Maybe some flip flops if I can't find my fuzzy house slippers."

While Ginny started rummaging through Hermione's dresser, ignoring the way that Crookshanks was trying to nuzzle her leg for attention, Daphne knelt down on the pile of clothes, tucking a stray curl behind Hermione's ear. "Sweetie, why are you so worried about this?"

Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and sighed. "Theo doesn't want a marriage of convenience. Neither do I. People are already going to be speculating about why we're getting married and why so quickly. I haven't been in the  _Daily Prophet_  in two whole years. Not since that article where I was accused of trying to break up Draco and Luna's marriage."

The article came out just shortly after the wedding. Hermione had been maid of honour, overjoyed to see Luna get married, even if the love of her life happened to be Draco Malfoy. When the couple returned from their honeymoon, Hermione decided to be extra nice to her friend's new husband by taking him for a congratulatory cup of coffee, nothing out of the ordinary from their usual work day except Draco was now a happily married man.

One photo snapped with Draco holding the door for her, and the next day's headline said:  _Habitual Harlot Hermione Steals Slytherin Spouse_. She had been forced to hole up in the Ministry and Floo directly home every day from Remus's office instead of going out to the Atrium where reporters—and angry civilians busybodies—were waiting for her. It felt like fourth year all over again, and Hermione was not looking forward to what new rumours were going to surface when the world found out that she was marrying Theodore Nott, wealthy Scion of his House.

"I thought . . . I thought maybe if I tried to make it real that it wouldn't feel so wrong," Hermione said with a frown.

Daphne sighed and pulled Hermione into a hug. "You're right. And I absolutely love that you're putting so much effort into this. I know that we put this on your shoulders—saving Theo—but I am very happy to know that he'll be well looked after. I actually think it's a good match and would like to believe that, had the circumstances been different, we might have introduced the two of you without the threat of death lingering overhead."

Hermione nodded and tried to compose herself. "Why  _haven't_ I met Theo before? He wasn't at Pansy and Ron's wedding or at Draco and Luna's."

Daphne shrugged. "Well, when Pansy and Ronald got married, a lot of our friends had gone back to Hogwarts and kind of holed themselves up there. Only a few were given permission to attend the wedding since it wasn't during hols. Theo's father went to trial and then Azkaban, and it was . . . it was pretty rough for him. I honestly think that Draco only stuck around England for his mother and then Luna when Narcissa moved away. Theo didn't have  _anyone_. He found an apprenticeship with a Curse-Breaker in Egypt and signed a contract to study there for several years. We only saw him during the occasional Christmas, maybe a week or two in the summers. He actually did come home for Draco's wedding, but then there was some emergency. It was supposed to be a quick trip back and forth after the stag party, but then some sort of tunnel collapsed in a tomb outside of Giza. He was safe but trapped there for a week."

Hermione felt herself panicking at the thought. Heights were a deal breaker for sure, but enclosed spaces were a close second on things that made her queasy. It was a phobia of hers that she sadly shared with Harry.

"He doesn't do that kind of work anymore, does he?" Granted she spent the majority of her time dealing with werewolves and other Beings, the occasional magical creature if she was paired with Draco for an assignment, but she had spent the majority of her childhood terrified that at any point in during the school year Harry or Ron would be killed either by Voldemort, random Death Eaters, or Quidditch. She was not certain if she could handle having a husband that worked such a dangerous job.

Daphne eased her worries with a gentle smile. "No. It's mostly securities for large businesses or dismantling wards for old properties that the Ministry or Gringotts seizes for one reason or another."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "How does that work?"

Ginny turned and stared at them, holding up a pair of earrings that she found for their approval. "Careful, if you ask Daphne all the questions about Theo, you're going to have to skip the small talk on your date and go right to the sex."

Hermione paled, standing up and snatching the earrings away from the redhead. "What have I done?" she asked, eyes wide. "I'm . . . I'm going to marry a man I don't know. We have to be bound.  _Bound_ , Ginny! Bound! Do you know what that means?"

Ginny smiled sympathetically. "It means lifelong commitment. I know," she said, petting Hermione's hair affectionately. "Blaise and I talk about it all the time. And then we drink until we forget and shag while consuming a ridiculous amount of Contraceptive Potion."

Daphne pursed her lips. "You're not helping."

"Hermione, you'll be fine," Ginny promised. "I know you've been through a dry spell, but having sex is just like riding a broom. You never forget how."

Hermione groaned miserably, pushing her fingers into tangled locked. "I'm terrible at riding a broom!"

"Well, how good are you at riding a cock?"

"Out!" Daphne insisted, standing up and pointing to the door. "Ginevra, you go in the other room and pick out some shoes from her front cupboard. We'll match her clothes accordingly. One more inappropriate word from you, and I will tamper with that Contraceptive Potion you and Blaise are so fond of. You'll be setting up playdates with Pansy before Christmas."

Ginny snickered as she slipped out of the bedroom, leaving the two alone.

Daphne sighed as she turned back to look at Hermione. "Hermione, Theo doesn't expect anything. He's a perfect gentleman. He won't expect . . . I mean, sure there's the actual binding but—"

"He wants a  _real_ marriage, Daphne," Hermione said. "And he's a pureblood. I don't know how to do this. You people are just . . . Half of the time, everything seems so old fashioned. Who actually has marriage contracts anymore? Am I supposed to pretend to be innocent and virginal like, well . . . like you?"

Daphne laughed, throwing her head back and clutching at her stomach. "Oh, sweetie. It's adorable that you think that of me. Hermione, if I was as pure and innocent as I apparently come across, this engagement ring might be a tad bit smaller. Harry had a good birthday last summer; in return, I had a  _spectacular_ Christmas."

Hermione grimaced at the images that put in her mind against her will. Shaking her head—and the thoughts—she asked, "So then am I supposed to be like Ginny . . . or Merlin forbid, Pansy?"

"Definitely not Pansy," Daphne said emphatically. "Just be yourself. If Theo wants a real marriage, I don't think he wants a fake wife."

"I don't know how to be engaged to a pureblood. A Slytherin."

The blonde slowly raised a pale eyebrow. "You  _do_ know we're just like everyone else, right? We're normal witches and wizards. Without the snakes tattooed on our arses, you'd be hard pressed to pick us out of a lineup."

Hermione laughed, though she had secretly wondered what had gone on in the dungeons at Hogwarts. There had been an abundance of rumours.

"I know," Daphne said, blue eyes wide and full of mirth. "I thought it was a terribly inappropriate way to celebrate House pride, but we'd all just finished our O.W.L.s. Snape all but insisted on it," she teased and grinned when Hermione just laughed louder. "Harry thinks it's hot. Sometimes he tries to speak Parseltongue to it."

"All right! I get your point. But . . . Daphne, you're not like everyone else," she said with a sigh. "Slytherins are . . . are . . .  _Malfoy_."

"Draco's a special case."

"Pansy," Hermione countered.

Daphne cringed. "Well, she's just special."

"Blaise?"

Scrunching up her nose, Daphne sighed. "You know, you Gryffindors are just as bad. Ginny's an absolute deviant, Ron has absolutely no tact, Harry, like you, can't be bothered to dress himself, and the whole lot of you are hell bent on being heroes for the rest of your lives, no matter the cost associated with it. And the cost, for the record, isn't always that bad. Theo's a prize, and so are you."

Hermione leant her head on Daphne's shoulder. "Am I being ridiculous? It is even possible to start a relationship based on an arranged marriage that was put together because his friends are manipulative and I was guilt tripped into this by Malfoy?"

"It's not a test," Daphne said. "You're not going to fail anything, and no one is expecting you to be anything that you're not. Theo's not your instructor in all things pureblood or marriage. Something tells me that you'll both end up teaching one another a lot of new things."

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you're going to marry my best friend. You're good for him."

The blonde grinned. "I'm glad you're going to marry  _my_ best friend. I think he'll be good for you."

* * *

Theo stared at himself in the reflection of his mirror, focusing as he applied the glamours to hide away the visible evidence of his illness. When he was done, he was hard pressed to try and forget he was sick at all, wondering briefly if, perhaps, the pain was all a figment of his imagination. The fatigue was getting to him though, reminding him of the reality of the situation that he found himself in. He reached into the cabinet on the wall where he kept the majority of his potions and quickly drank down an Invigoration Draught, some Pepper-Up, and a Pain Relief Potion, slipping two extra of each into the pocket of his robes after casting an Unbreakable Charm on the phials.

Draco and Blaise were still arguing in his bedroom as he rejoined them.

"You are disgustingly vulgar," Draco hissed.

Blaise rolled his eyes and laughed. "How are you married to Luna Lovegood and  _still_ this uptight?"

Theo pushed his friends apart before they drew their wands. "It's a bloody tie," he said, snatching the strip of silk fabric from Draco's hand. "Wearing it doesn't make a man uptight, and a lack of one doesn't make a man uncouth. I don't even know why I asked you both to help me with this."

"Because you're taking Granger to a Muggle restaurant, and you don't know how to dress properly?" Blaise offered. "Lose the tie. You'll look like a prat."

Draco snarled, actually stomping his foot. "He needs to make a good impression. Just because the contract is signed doesn't mean that she can't back out of it before the binding. We need to think about this strategically."

Theo shook his head. "No. I'm not tricking her. I barely want to go through with this myself. But . . ." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Blaise grinned at the gesture. "But you're still nursing that childhood crush you had on her?"

"Shut up."

"I don't get it," Draco said. "Sure she's all right now, but in school she was a nightmare. All bossy, loud, and nothing but hair."

"She was intelligent," Theo said quietly. "I . . . admired her. Not that I could do so  _publicly_ ," he added, glaring at Draco.

"Yes, yes, I destroyed the grand love affair you'd concocted in your head over a Muggle-born that you became enamoured with at fifteen. What the hell were you going to do with her at fifteen anyway? Walk her around the Black Lake? Look at the stars? We were teenagers."

Blaise snorted incredulously. "Wasn't Pansy sucking you off by that point? I'd hardly call that looking at the stars."

Draco grimaced at the memory. "It wasn't all fond memories for me, you know. Bitch bit me once. I almost feel bad for Weasley."

"Can we not talk about cocks before I go to dinner?" Theo snapped loudly. "Fuck! I feel sick enough as it is; I don't need the image of Pansy on her knees before I go and attempt to eat food that I'll probably throw up later anyway, let alone in front of a witch that you're making me marry!"

His friends stared at him in silence, seemingly unaffected by his outburst.

Blaise eventually grinned. "Yep. Still nursing that childhood crush. Need a Contraceptive Potion?"

"I'm not having sex with her, you wanker." Theo sat on the edge of his bed to tie up his shoes. "She's going to be my wife if she actually goes through with this. I don't want to fuck it up—and not just because my only other option is death."

"She doesn't know," Draco said. "That she's the only one we asked, I mean. I lied and told her that we'd been searching around for months to find someone to marry you off to. I might have  _accidentally_ made her think that she was actually a last resort."

Theo stared at his friend, mouth open and eyes wide. "Blaise," he said quietly. "Hex him."


	10. Chapter 10

**March 8th, 2004**

They used the Floo to get to the Leaky from Hermione's flat, and Theo insisted that they could walk the rest of the way to the restaurant he picked out. He had clearly applied glamours to his face to disguise the fact that he was fighting off the illness that the curse was putting him through. The dark circles beneath his eyes were gone, and his skin had more colour to it. Hermione wondered if this was how he normally looked when healthy; if so, then Luna was correct: Theo Nott was fit.

As they walked together, she glanced from the corner of her eyes to observe his features. He was typical of Wizarding aristocracy—all sharp angles from generations of selective pureblood breeding, but he was softer around the edges than most. Still, there was no denying that, just by looking at him, Theo Nott was of importance. He carried himself tall but lacked the arrogance that Blaise and Draco had. She could not help but feel a bit frumpy walking beside him, thanking Circe and Merlin and—more than anyone else—Ginny Weasley, for helping her learn to walk in heels years ago.

Theo's skin had a soft rosy quality to it, which was how Hermione picked up that he was using a glamour; when they had met the day before, he had been sallow and pale. His hair was a dark chocolate brown that almost looked black unless he stood in the light. The texture of it appeared soft, and she could easily imagine . . .

"Oof!" she said as she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, smiling awkwardly as he caught her.

"Either you're terrible at walking or you're purposely trying to make us even by forcing me to rescue you," Theo said with a small smirk.

"Both?" she suggested and laughed nervously as he righted her back on her heels. "I'm nervous. This is ridiculous. I've been on dates before."

He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, obviously Muggle but well-made. She had not seen him in such clothing during the two other times she had met with him, so she assumed that he either had a secret Muggle fashion fetish like Draco, or he had borrowed the outfit from Blaise. Either way, Theo pulled off the Muggle look better than most Muggles.

"We've gone about this from the wrong end, haven't we?" Theo offered, wincing slightly. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm just as clueless about how to behave with you as you are with me."

Hermione chuckled. "Admitting weaknesses? Not very Slytherin of you."

Theo grinned at her, "Just areas that need improvement."

"Can we . . . ? Can we pretend we're not getting married? That's silly, of course we can't. We actually have things to discuss in regards to arrangements. I just . . . I kind of wish that we'd met under different circumstances, and that this was all normal, and I wasn't so very . . ." She groaned in frustration.

He stared at her for a long moment of contemplation. "I have an idea."

He took her hand, tugging on it until she followed him where he stepped between two buildings near a cherry tree. He pulled a twig from the end of a branch that had two blossoms on it and plucked one of the flowers between two fingers, smiling as he tucked it behind her ear. The other blossom and the twig were fashioned into a circle, and Theo smiled as he slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand. Glancing around, likely to make sure no Muggles were looking, he withdrew his wand and waved it over her finger, transfiguring the twig and blossom into a silver banded-diamond ring.

"We're not about to be married," he whispered. "And we're not on a first date. You and I are Theo and Hermione Nott, just an ordinary happily married couple out in Muggle London, celebrating our . . . five year wedding anniversary," he decided aloud after a moment of contemplation.

Hermione smiled at him and shyly bit her bottom lip.

"None of that now, Mrs Nott," he said, chucking her chin gently. "We've been married five years. While I  _am_ quite dashing, I hardly think I still have the ability to bring such a colour to those cheeks."

She laughed and tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow as he held it out for her. "Very well, Mr Nott. Don't you think we were a little young to get married? Five years. That's almost right out of Hogwarts."

"Hardly too young," he insisted as they continued walking. "We were desperate for one another in school, you see—all those dastardly hormones growing up. I was shocked we waited so long after graduation to jump to the altar. You were very enamoured with me."

Hermione threw her head back and laughed. "You're very full of yourself, aren't you?"

" _Was_  very full of myself," Theo corrected her. "You couldn't blame me, I was barely out of school. I'm much more mature now that I'm comfortably wed."

She smiled at him, finding herself strangely more relaxed over playing the part instead of trying to force herself into her actual role of date/fiancée. Pretend wife was a surprisingly easy fit.

"Thank you, Theo."

Her breath caught when he pulled her hand into his palm and brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing them ever so slightly.

"Anything for you,  _wife_."

Hermione's eyes widened when they arrived at their destination. An old Victorian fire station that had long since been converted into one of London's top—and also  _most expensive_ —restaurants. "Theo, this is the Firehouse. It's too much."

"For a five year wedding anniversary? I think it's quite appropriate," he said, struggling a bit with his tender grip on her arm as she fought to go inside.

"Reservation for Malfoy," Theo told the girl at the front. She smiled up at him, glazed eyes barely acknowledging Hermione, who was staring at Theo curiously. He glanced back at her and smirked mischievously in a way that silently said he would explain later.

"Of course, Mr Malfoy," the girl said in a simpering voice.

Hermione accidentally growled in the back of her throat, and Theo chuckled at the amusing display of jealousy. He pulled Hermione closer to him to force the hostess to acknowledge her, and when she did, she briefly looked disappointed.

"Right this way," the hostess said, leading them to a small reserved table between the bar and kitchen.

The little nook appeared to have been carved out of the brick to originally house equipment for the old fire station that it used to be, but it now sat a small round table inside the private cupboard, covered with a white pressed linen tablecloth that Hermione noted looked more expensive than the sheets on her bed.

Theo tucked in beside her, and Hermione suddenly felt bereft when he released her hand to pick up the wine menu and quietly ordered a selection. Her thumb ran over the transfigured ring on her finger, shocked by how strangely happy it made her feel while at the same time sad—which only confused her. Her expression was likely very readable because Theo turned and stared at her for a few moments of silence before speaking.

"I planned for tonight to be as Muggle as possible. Originally, I wanted to stop at Gringotts to add you to the accounts and perhaps look in my vaults for a ring, but it would be hardly romantic on my part. If we're doing this for real, then I should probably stop treating it like a business transaction," he said with a sigh; clearly, the thought had been weighing him down. "Also, I figured it would be better to discuss a few things with you before we officially went public."

Hermione smiled sadly at him, wondering if he knew what he was getting himself into. She was cannon fodder for journalists. "It really doesn't matter. The press is going to rip me to shreds no matter when we decide to go public."

Theo narrowed his eyes for a brief moment and then relaxed, but Hermione caught the expression. The hard look was reminiscent of young Slytherins she had grown up with when they were angry or mean or likely plotting something terrible.

"If you refuse to back out of this arrangement, and you  _do_ still have that option," Theo said, "I won't fault you, I swear it on my honour. You should know—" He cleared his throat. "—there are few things I do not stand for, and disrespect is one of them."

Hermione furrowed her brows and then bristled at this words. "I meant no disresp—"

"I wasn't talking about  _you_ disrespecting  _me_." He placed his hand gently over hers. "People are going to be rude to me no matter what. I was a Death Eater. Forced, coerced, threatened, blackmailed—it doesn't matter  _how_ I got it, I bear the Mark and the stigma that comes along with it and will do so for the rest of my life. I will not, however, stand for my wife to have her character disparaged by fame-seeking journalists."

Unsure of how to react, she swallowed. "I can take care of myself."

"And you've done quite well. You survived a war where you were a prime target. You fight for yourself, your friends, strangers, creatures, and sometimes even your enemies," he said with a softer smile, one that spoke for layers of buried humility. "No one can deny that you  _can_ take care of yourself and are able to defend your own honour. I would, however, ask for the  _privilege_ of doing it for you."

She stared into his earthly blue eyes in curiosity and could not help but be reminded of the way that Draco doted upon Luna like she was a fragile little doll or the way Ginny was always fighting Blaise when he opened doors for her, ignoring the way that he would smirk at her knowing that the chivalrous act riled her up.

"You're asking my  _permission_?" Hermione questioned. "To defend me?"

"From time to time," Theo said. "I hardly think you're a woman who can be easily controlled or subdued. If I put a patriarchal foot down and insisted that you become a polite pureblood princess, I'd likely end up losing that foot. Besides, how boring would a life like that be? I'd be very much interested to see how you handled nosy reporters."

"I lock them in glass jars," Hermione said dryly as though she were joking.

Theo chuckled, taking a sip from his glass of water as a server came by to fill it.

"What I'm asking, is that you allow me to ease some of the pent up anger that I know will eventually come from seeing you belittled on my account. Not because you can't do it yourself, but because it's in my nature to be defensive over the people close to me. You, naturally, will be the closest."

Hermione thought about the request for a long moment, watching his expression very carefully, looking for things that she had learned from Malfoy over the years. Eye contact, little ticks in the jaw or movements with his hands that would indicate ulterior motives. Finding none, and shocked by the strange bit of honesty coming from a Slytherin, she smiled.

They drank wine and were given a complimentary bottle when the owner discovered it was their "wedding anniversary." Hermione blushed, and Theo grinned, insisting that the cost of the bottle be added to their total.

He slipped a plastic card to the waiter before returning to the plate of Tiramisu that Hermione insisted she could not eat on her own and pleaded with Theo to share it with her. He had not eaten much during dinner, and she noticed each and every thing he put in his mouth, making a mental note of it for later. Still sick, still suffering, but pushing through it all just to help her through this awkward period of pre-marriage courting. She was certain that it had to be less uncomfortable for him because he was a pureblood who likely understood arrangements like this better than she did.

When the waiter brought the pudding with only one fork, Theo stared and waited for her to make the move to share as she had requested. Sharing food was strangely intimate, especially in such a romantic setting, but she gathered her Gryffindor courage and met the challenge head on, taking a bite first for herself and then holding the second out for him.

Theo chuckled at her in amusement as though she were a kitten instead of a lioness, and she narrowed her eyes and decided to challenge his amusement by taking it a step further and moving closer to him.

Calling her bluff, Theo stretched his right arm around her shoulders, letting it fall behind her where the tips of his fingers ghosted against the back of her bare arm.

Hermione made a squeaking noise and nearly choked on the bite in her mouth, and she turned to glare at him.

He smiled innocently at her. "Something wrong?"

She shook her head firmly and then offered him another bite which he took eagerly, catching a bit of the chocolate sauce that had been drizzled over the top on the edge of his lip. He swiped it with his index finger and then sucked the digit into his mouth. Hermione stared at the movement, watching with rapt interest as his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. She watched him, mentally aware that if he kissed her tonight, he would likely taste of coffee, cocoa, and cream.

"Mr Malfoy," the waiter said when he returned the credit card to Theo. "Thank you again for dining with us this evening."

Hermione's curiosity finally burst when the Muggle left. "Okay, you have to tell me right now what's going on. Why do they think that you're Draco?"

"Because when my wretched prat of a best friend decided to pin me to the ground and play dominant arsehole upon the announcement of our betrothal," Theo said with a gleam in his eye as he handed her the rectangular bit of plastic, "I nicked his Muggle credit card from his pockets right after he released the Body Bind. I figure since he wanted this arrangement so badly, he could stand to pay for it. I have a sudden desire to take my future wife shopping for Muggle items she'd like to have in her new home."

Hermione's mouth fell open as she looked at the card.  _Draco L Malfoy_  was printed right there in white lettering on the black plastic, and she laughed loudly, forcing herself to cover her hands over her mouth to prevent causing a scene. "Oh, you're brilliant."

"You'll have to take me around. I'm not familiar with Muggle London. I had to get a recommendation to this place from Blaise," Theo confessed. "Anywhere you want to go. Anywhere that might confuse the hell out of Draco when he sees the bill."

"We have to go to Harvey Nichols and John Lewis," Hermione said immediately, grinning when Theo looked perplexed.

"Who are  _they_?" he asked, causing her to giggle.

* * *

"Hermione . . . I'd like us to be fully honest with one another," Theo said as he walked her home, carrying the magically shrunken down bags of merchandise that they had purchased in one tote, though it would likely fill an entire room when unpacked. New sheets and drapes—red and gold to tease him—and a multitude of Muggle kitchen utensils that she promised she would teach him how to use later.

Draco was going to lose his shit when he figured out what had happened.

"If you are truly genuine about going through with this, which I still have to insist is unnecessary, I want to start this marriage the way I want it to be lived: honest. I don't want you to be surprised to find that I'm a different man before and after the binding. I, likewise, would prefer to know the real you. No secrets, brutal honesty."

Hermione swallowed nervously, worried that he was about to confess his true feelings about blood status or perhaps something worse. "Theo I—"

"Would you have considered dating me, were I not dying?"

She paused and stopped her movements as they reached the front door of her flat, and she turned to look up at him. "I . . . I have been honestly thinking over the past few days of uncomfortable things I could possibly do to Draco to get back at him for not introducing us years ago."

She felt her heart flutter when he grinned in reply.

"End of the date," he said. "I have to admit, I'm not entirely sure how to proceed from here. You're not a typical witch. As much as we can pretend otherwise, we signed a contract and in little over a month you'll be my wife. I feel . . ." He took a moment to ponder the thought as he brushed his knuckles lightly against her cheek. "I feel a strong need to, preserve these early moments, instead of—" He breathed heavy and swallowed as his gaze briefly flickered down the curve of her neck. "—acting impulsively."

Hermione let out a heavy exhale and laughed nervously. "Daphne . . . Daphne said you were a gentleman."

"I like to think of myself as less gentlemanly and more . . ." He trailed off a bit, licking his bottom lip as he took another step closer to her. " . . . Accommodating."

There were pages and pages of definitions that hung around that word and the tone with which he spoke.

Hermione leant on the front door to her flat and felt the cool metal against the hot skin of her back. She was shocked that steam was not pouring off of her as she stared up at him. She felt a mixture of fearful anxiety and needy anticipation. It must have been obvious because Theo seemed to be warring with himself over which of her issues he wanted to address first.

His eyes were dark, and with the colour glamoured onto his cheeks, he looked neither frail or sick but instead strong and intimidating in a way that made her knees slightly weak. The men Hermione had been with were hardly even equal to her  _own_ strength. She and Ron had been childhood sweethearts, if they were even that. The few fumblings they experienced together were awkward at best and embarrassing at worst. The few Muggles she had dated over the years sadly reminded her of how frail and naive they were to the dangers of her world. She had dated Terry Boot for six months shortly after her brief relationship with Ron ended, and he was very sweet but barely left her feeling content.

She did not want contentment; she wanted . . .  _adrenaline_.

The way Theo towered over her and stood just a fraction of an inch too close to her had her gulping in the hot air around her, unsure of what his next move would be. It was a heady experience, and she could feel the heat on her skin slowly creeping up her chest and neck to settle in her cheeks.

Theo reached for her hand and moved to politely kiss her knuckles, and Hermione briefly felt disappointed until he turned her palm up and placed a tender, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist. When he brought his eyes up to look at her before placing another kiss there, she shivered at the sight of his dilated pupils and immediately began imagining waking up in the same bed as this man for the rest of her life.

He released her hand and then leant forward to very lightly brush a kiss against her cheekbone, his breath tingling against her ear. "I shall be a gentleman and contain my baser urges . . .  _tonight_."


	11. Chapter 11

**March 9th, 2004**

After Theo dropped Hermione off at her front door and left her there in a puddle of confusing need and want, she slipped into her flat and poured herself a large glass of wine in an attempt to calm her nerves which were buzzing, especially on the inside of her wrist and side of her cheek where she could still feel his lips. She blamed her eager responsiveness to his touch on years of pent up frustration and a bad habit of replacing the romantic element in her life with work.

After pouring a second glass of wine—she could still smell the after dinner mint he had been sucking on during their walk back to her home—Hermione threw up her security wards and closed the Floo. She locked her doors the Muggle way in an attempt to keep herself shut in just in case she drank a little too much and found herself drunkenly stumbling into Nott Manor the same way she had done in Draco and Luna's home days earlier.

The charm on the transfigured diamond ring around her finger eventually faded, leaving her with the knotted cherry blossom. She smiled wistfully at it as she placed the pink flower between the pages of an old edition of  _Grimm's Fairy Tales_ and then fell asleep on her sofa with the book tucked gently beneath a pillow.

She woke the following morning after a delightful dream that included eating tiramisu off of a bare chest while blue, lust-filled eyes watched her, a soft timbre whispering Malfoy's credit card number in her ear like a sonnet.

After a decidedly cold shower, Hermione found herself desperate for a cup of coffee and left for work early so she could grab one on the way.

When she arrived at her office, grateful to note that Draco was not there yet, Hermione pushed open her door and smiled at the new vase sitting on her desk filled with familiar pink flowers. It was a welcoming sight; she was not usually one for cliche gifts, but Theo seemed to be thoughtful when choosing floral arrangements.

She set down her cup of coffee and reached for the attached card when someone whistled from the doorway.

"Who's sending you flowers, 'Mione?" Tonks asked, grinning as she slipped inside of the office. Hermione blushed and hid the card quickly. "Wow. These are so pretty!"

"Cherry blossoms," Hermione said. "I . . . I kind of have a boyfriend."

Tonks raised a curious brow. "How do you  _kind of_ have a boyfriend?"

Hermione winced and searched her mind for a logical answer. "When he's something else as well but . . . but . . . I can't really get into it."

"Secret love affair?" Tonks sighed wistfully as she leant against the doorframe. "Ah, I remember when I had one of those. And then I got hitched, had a kid, and it's all been downhill from there."

Hermione smirked at the sight of Remus stepping up behind his wife, his brows furrowed in mock irritation. Tonks was already grinning, likely having noticed his approach long before she started speaking.

"Morning, love!" she said brightly and kissed his cheek as though they had not seen one another before leaving their house.

He smiled and kissed her forehead indulgently before turning his attention to Hermione. "More flowers?"

"Apparently."

"They're very lovely," he said and then gestured to a stack of folders on the edge of her desk. "I signed off on those papers you needed; you can send them to the Records Department whenever you're ready."

"Wonderful, thank you." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, taking her seat.

Remus and Tonks waved before closing the door as they left her office.

She flipped open the folders to look over the cases that were finally being closed regarding a pack of werewolves who had finally accepted assistance from the Werewolf Support Services in exchange for signing the registry. It had been a long process that involved several meetings with both Hermione and Remus. In the end, the werewolf pack was better off for it and had been provided with Wolfsbane for free.

With that case off of her mind, Hermione reached back for the card from Theo and smiled upon opening it.

_Hermione,_

_If parting ways last night was as difficult for you as it was for me, please accept these flowers along with my deepest apologies. I have business to deal with today, but I hope you'd be willing to accompany me to lunch tomorrow, perhaps we can get some errands done at Gringotts, if you're up to it. Let me know your schedule._

_Yours,_

Theo

"Mistress likes the flowers?"

Startled by the squeaky voice, Hermione screamed, "Holy shit!" and jumped from her chair, practically leaping over her desk in the process.

By the time she turned back, wand in hand, to see the little elf standing behind her chair, nervously tugging at her bat-like ears, Hermione's heart rate had skyrocketed. She caught her breath as the little elf tugged harder on her ears.

"No, no, please don't get upset," Hermione pleaded. "You just startled me. Quiet little thing, aren't you? Umm . . . Pixy, right?" she asked, recognising the creature from Theo's home.

"Yes, Mistress."

Hermione grimaced at the term. "Pixy, I am not your Mistress."

Pixy frowned, looking desperately confused. "You's marrying Master?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed.

"Then you's Mistress."

Sighing, Hermione recalled similar conversations with Swishy—who refused to call her anything but Missy Granger—and Kreacher—who had finally stopped calling her Mudblood.

"Can you just call me Hermione?"

The elf looked emotionally torn. "Pixy . . . has . . . mustn't . . ."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Fine," Hermione conceded, making a mental note to figure out how to get out of owning an elf via marriage. "Pixy, is everything all right? Why are you here?"

The elf adjusted her tea towel apron and stood tall. "Pixy comes to see if Mistress is needing her for anything."

Hermione shook her head immediately. "No. Pixy, I'm quite all right."

Pixy frowned, looking defeated and lost at Hermione's words of obvious dismissal. "Pixy has . . . Master said . . ."

"What did Theo say?"

"Master is not feeling well. Master told Pixy to find someone  _else_ to hover over."

Hermione glanced down at the card still on her desk, written in Theo's handwriting. "Theo's sick?" she asked, scolding herself for not paying enough attention to him last night. He had barely eaten anything and walked around London with her for hours as though he had not a care in the world. Thinking back to it, she figured that he was hopped up on Potions if what Draco said about the curse and its symptoms was true. "He doesn't have business today, does he?"

Pixy shook her head. "Master comes home sick last night. He not be sleeping well. Potions not be working good."

"Pixy, when was the last time Theo ate anything without getting sick?" Hermione curiously asked.

"Pixy fixes Masters favourites." Pixy's tone was one of submission, but her words were defensive, likely thinking that Hermione was blaming  _her_ for Theo's lack of appetite. "Pixy's a good elf. Pixy tries very hard."

Sighing in frustration, Hermione cursed the Wizarding world as a whole for teaching the little creatures to fear them in such a way. "I'm sure you do, Pixy, but Theo's very sick and you—" She paused, looking over the cherry blossoms in the vase. "No, actually,  _we_ need to take care of him in special ways. If I get you a list of food, can you get everything for me?" she asked as a thought occurred to her. "I'm not able to access Theo's vaults yet, but I know that house-elves that run manors are allocated a budget for managing the home, correct?"

Pixy nodded excitedly, obviously thrilled to have something to do. "Pixy can shop! And Pixy pulls from the gardens."

Hermione smiled, glad that she would not be spending too much of the Nott money by proxy through the elf. "Wonderful. Pixy, this is where I live." She reached into a desk drawer to pull out some parchment and a quill, jotting down the address to her flat. "I want you to meet me here in an hour."

The elf beamed brightly at Hermione. "Mistress is a wonderful Mistress! Pixy goes!"

Hermione sighed in frustration once Pixy disapparated, picking up the stack of folders and binding them temporarily together. She tapped her wand on the bundle to send it off to the Records Department for filing. Once that was done, she drank down the rest of her coffee quickly before binning the cup and closing her door.

She knocked lightly on Remus's door before walking in to find him hovering over a stack of parchments. "Remus? I really hate to do this, but can I have the day off?"

His eyes widened as he sat up straight, looking like he was ready to jump to his feet. She figured that fighting two wars had taught him to be ready for any emergency. His expression of worry made the grey in his hair stand out a bit, causing Hermione stomach to twist in guilt. "Is everything okay? Is your mother—?"

"No, no, nothing . . . nothing like that." Hermione pursed her lips in worry, a part of her wondering if she would eventually have to come into this office again to tell Remus she needed time off because something  _had_ happened with her mother.  _No_ , she thought to herself.  _Can't think of that now_. "I can't really explain, but I need to take care of some things."

Remus nodded, relaxing a touch as he gestured for her to take a seat. When she did, he leant back in his chair and observed her quietly before speaking. "Hermione, as your friend and boss, can I ask a favour of you?"

She sat up straighter, only barely noticing the similarities between herself and Pixy when presented with a task. "Absolutely, anything you need."

"When is your wedding again?"

Her brows furrowed. "The twenty-first of April," she answered hesitantly.

"Take off work until then, and an extra week or two after that for a honeymoon."

Hermione felt the breath leave her lungs, and she forced herself not to clutch at her chest. "What? What have I done?" she asked, eyes wide as she stared across the desk at her boss, her friend, who was apparently very, very cross with her.

She began mentally going over the last ten cases or so, thinking if anything had gone amiss in the organisation of them. There had been that one incident with the merpeople, but she fully blamed that on Draco, and if it hadn't been for her as a mediator, the local Apothecaries would have had to pay triple the price for gillyweed this season. Suddenly, she was reminded of the way Remus had looked at her back when he was Professor Lupin, helping her through a panic attack after her third year final exam when faced with a boggart that had turned itself into Professor McGonagall informing her that she had failed all of her classes.

"What have you done? Don't you mean what  _haven't_ you done? You've worked too much, Hermione," Remus insisted. "You've taken a total of  _four_ holidays since you started working at the Ministry years ago. One was for a wedding, the other for a birth, and the last two you took off sick and then ended up overloading yourself with Pepper-Up Potion and coming in for the last half of the day. You need a break."

"I don't  _want_ a break," she said petulantly, very close to stomping her foot in protest.

"You still need one. You  _deserve_ one. With everything going on with your family—"

"I don't need time off for that, Remus," she replied irritably. "My parents aren't even letting me help out because they want everything to feel normal."

He nodded with a look of understanding. Hermione wondered if he knew from personal experience with his own family, or if he was the one that was stubborn about letting people help him when he was ill; she strongly suspected the latter.

"Then take the time off to plan your wedding. Knowing you, you'll be stressing about it and, as devoted as you are to your job, it's depressing when you work yourself sick," Remus said. "You and Draco fight more often because you're tired and he provokes you, and then I have to put up with the Auror Department because Harry and Ron come down here to peacock around in your defence."

She snorted indignantly, remembering the last time that that exact scenario had happened. Granted, Harry had been trying to calm Ron down, but Draco was perfect at provoking him into an argument even when they were in agreement about something. It was annoying.

"I can defend  _myself_."

Remus grinned at her. "I know. I seem to remember you had a brilliant instructor. Handsome too."

She laughed, feeling some of the tension in her neck lessen. "And so very humble."

Standing up, Remus walked around his desk and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Take the time off. We have no new cases, and  _if_  there is some emergency, I will send a Patronus immediately and call you back in."

"Promise?"

"I solemnly swear."

She wanted to hit him, but not very hard. Instead, she stood up, still frowning even as he wrapped her in a hug. "This feels like a punishment."

"It is. You're being punished for not taking better care of yourself. Now go, do what you need to do, and I'll see you this Sunday at the Burrow for dinner."

She nodded. "I'll be there."

"You'll bring your . . . ?"

She sighed at the thought of bringing Theo to the Burrow. It was one thing to have Pansy there with Ron or Daphne there with Harry. Hell, even Blaise occasionally showed up with Ginny—though more often than not he left early because Molly would scold him for bothering her in the kitchen, sticking his fingers in whatever she happening to be making, even if he did praise her cooking to a perverted degree. But  _Theo_? At the Burrow? Oh God, she would have to tell everyone that she was getting married and there would be so many questions and . . . and . . . and . . .

"Maybe. I'm not sure if I want to tell everyone by myself or with him there. And if anyone's rude to him, Pansy's going to throw a fit and have the baby right there, and then we'll all have to deal with Molly screaming. Maybe I'll just send a note. Care to play owl for me?"

Remus scoffed. "Some Gryffindor."

She smirked at him. "Have a good day, Remus."

* * *

When she arrived outside of her childhood home, she hesitated before walking inside. She could not help but worry that she would accidentally walk in to find her mother sick and then be asked to leave lest she beg to help. Again.

While she was busy contemplating her next move, her father opened the door. "Hermione, what're you doing here, sweetheart? I've been watching you pace in front of the door for the last five minutes."

She sighed and then stuck out her bottom lip. "I've been temporarily  _evicted_ from my job."

"What? What happened?"

"Remus is forcing me to take holiday."

He laughed and then pulled her into his arms. "Oh, you must be heartbroken," he said with a sympathetic—and slightly mocking—tone.

"Don't tease. Where's Mum?"

"At the office."

Hermione pulled away from him and stared. "What?"

"We told you, Hermione. She has good days and bad days. Today is a very good day," he said with a smile. "She went in to take care of some paperwork and a few cleanings. Easy work, short hours, and she knows her limitations. I was getting ready to head over there myself, but we had a little trouble with the upstairs loo. Despite being handy enough to fix it myself, your mum insisted we hire a plumber to come and take a look. He left just before you showed up."

She nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "Are you sure she should be—?"

"She's fine. Living life. Like  _you_ should be instead of worrying about her. That's  _my_ job. The husband worries, the daughter lives her life, makes her parents proud, is forced to take holiday, and brings her fiancé—that her parents still haven't met—over for dinner," he added with a pointed glare.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's in the plans, I promise."

"He didn't ask my permission."

"I would have hit him if he had tried."

She remembered Harry and Ron coming to her for advice on asking Daphne's and Pansy's fathers for their permission to marry. She had lectured them for twenty minutes about the pureblood patriarchy only to be ignored. As it turned out, Daphne's father was quite impressed with whatever little speech Harry had come up with; Pansy's father had screamed for an hour—though that might have had more to do with the surprise pregnancy.

"Still, a gesture would have been nice. You're my only daughter."

"He's a pureblood wizard and doesn't understand Muggles very much," she said, making up an excuse and wondering how much of her relationship with Theo she was going to need to fabricate.

She had insisted that her friends all know the truth when it came to signing the contract, but when it came to her parents—and likely the Weasleys and the rest of the world—Hermione was worried about what to say. Theo said he wanted their marriage to be based on honesty, but she did not even want to think of the headlines that the  _Daily Prophet_  would surely come up with.

"There's a lot that's lost in translation. Very serious culture differences. I promise, I'll bring him by soon. In fact,  _he's_ kind of why I stopped here. Theo's not feeling very well, and I wondered if I could borrow some of those new cookbooks that you and Mum bought to help her with her nausea."

"Sick? Nothing serious?"

She did not answer right away. "Just something he unfortunately picked up. Two of his friends had it recently, and they're just fine now. It's not contagious to Muggles, by the way. I wouldn't put either of you in danger."

Her father chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Had it always been so grey?

"I heard that before," he said, referring to Hermione's need to protect both of her parents in the face of the Wizarding war. When she frowned at his words, he sighed. "I'm just teasing you, sweetheart. You're more than welcome to the books. Let your young man know that we hope he feels well enough soon so we can have him over."

She forced a smile, hating herself for lying. It felt much too similar to her teen years. "I will, Dad. Thank you. Please— _Please_  let me know if there's anything I can do. I . . . I feel helpless."

He frowned and pulled her back into his arms. "I know you do. I felt the same way. I'm sorry we kept it from you. When you have kids of your own, you'll understand. Then again, everything you've gone through and you did your best to protect  _us_ , I suppose you already do know what it's like."

Hermione whispered, "This is terrible payback."

"I know. It wasn't very creative of us. Go," he said and tugged on a lock of her hair with a smile. "Live. It'll make her happy."


	12. Chapter 12

**March 9th, 2004**

Nine phials of three different potions mixed with two glasses of wine at dinner, scallops—or was it shrimp that he ate?—and then the few shared bites of pudding. Theo had caught her staring at him throughout dinner, watching as he brought anything to his mouth—the wine glass, his napkin, a forkful of whatever he blindly ordered off of the menu. He, however, had been paying more attention to the conversation and the way the candlelight brought out the various shades of colour in her hair. Caramel, cinnamon, honey, and a lighter tone that reminded him of the coffee she had in the breakfast nook with him the day before after adding too much cream.

He remembered staring at her hair back at Hogwarts, observing the various shades in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. He admired the variety with a curious interest, noting that it was not one solid colour like Pansy's heavy black or Daphne's golden locks.

He had been reminded of the crups that his mother bred when he was a child. How she would purposely pair similar coloured pups in order to breed out the shades of fur she disliked most; bred them down and down through the generations until they were weak, sick, and dying, but the colour of fur had been  _finally_ to her liking. Theo never understood why someone would prefer a pretty pet if it was sickly and stupid. Draco's eagle owl was hideous and frightening but perfectly effective at its job.

Muggle-borns like Hermione Granger intrigued him.

She was both brilliant and lovely, though not in the way that Daphne or the big-chested blonde from Gryffindor that half the boys in Hogwarts panted after—Weasley included—during sixth year.

No, Hermione was different.

She did not smile at boys in the corridors or flirt with Quidditch players, but her eyes sparkled when Professor Vector told her that she was so ahead of the rest of the class that she would do better to go around and help the other students. Theo had feigned ignorance on a calculation just so that she would have to help him. She had explained the variable as quickly as possible, and he could see her briefly flinch at the colour of his robes. Slytherin, like Draco, who had been bragging a week earlier that a stray hex had hit her in the face, enlarging her teeth. Staring quietly at her as she looked over his calculations, he noticed that she'd had Draco's hex reversed, and quite possibly something else.

She also had three freckles beneath her left eye.

Sitting with her at dinner, Theo noted those same three freckles and how her eyes sparkled when she talked about her work or her friends. They darkened when she watched him bring his glass of wine to his lips and, despite knowing he would suffer for it later, he had ordered a second glass, scolding himself for being pathetically romantic.

And suffer he did.

Waking up that morning with a headache that he could feel in his toes, Theo scribbled a note to Hermione and arranged to have a vase of cherry blossoms sent to her work before he tossed back more potions in a desperate attempt to dull the pain, to ease the nausea and sickness that reminded him he was dying.

When his bedroom door cracked open close to noon, Theo groaned. "Pixy, I'm sorry that I was irritable with you this morning, but I meant what I said. I don't need you doting on me—"

"Interesting," a voice that did not belong to his head house-elf said. Theo's eyes widened at the sound. "Black sheets. Is it weird that I expected green or silver? I mean, the ones in my flat aren't red or gold, but for some reason, I just naturally associate everything you Slytherins do with those colours."

He blinked several times staring down at his pillow, waiting to see if the voice continued or if he'd had a brief hallucination.

"You know, the first time I saw Draco in grey dress robes at work, I nearly laughed. He had been wearing a green silk tie though."

Slowly rolling over, Theo saw Hermione Granger standing in his bedroom doorway, a silver tray in her hands with a tall glass of juice and bowl that had steam rising out of it. "What . . . ? I . . ." he stammered as he just stared at her.

"Black sheets though? No one owns black sheets unless you want someone to see them." She approached the bed, placing the tray down on a side table. "It's like lingerie. Cotton you wear for yourself, lace you wear for someone else."

He noted that she did not blush when she spoke, but he could not help but wonder if some colour had not perhaps returned to  _his_ face as a sudden image of Hermione wearing lace lingerie, sprawled across his black sheets came to his mind. "Her—"He cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled sweetly down at him. "Well, I was told in a fancy little contract that,  _technically_ , I live here now. None of my things have been moved yet, but really, that's just a formality isn't it?" Then, without another word, she sat down on the edge of the bed and angled forward, pressing the cold palm of her hand against his forehead and cheeks.

Despite wanting to remain in control, he leant into her touch, relishing the chill that swept across his heated skin. "I mean, aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"You're sick."

Theo sneered at the words, and Hermione quietly laughed. "Did Professor Snape teach you all how to do that directly after the Sorting?"

"Did Professor McGonagall teach you all how to . . ." He paused, annoyed that he had nothing to come back at her with. He blamed the fatigue. Clearly, it was eating away at his intellect and sharp wit. "What is it, exactly, that you're doing here?"

"You're sick. I'm taking care of you," she said slowly as though she were worried he would not be able to keep up.

Theo tried to sit up, forcing away the cringe that wanted to escape when pain shot through his body. "Hermione, that's completely unnecessary. You're already sacrificing—"

"Sacrificing my life to marry you," she interrupted with a mocking tone. "Yes, well, if I'm sacrificing my life already to marry you, then there's not much left to sacrifice by looking after you when you're ill, is there?"

"But your job—"

"I took some time off to plan the wedding." The way she glanced away from him briefly said that she was not telling him the whole story. " _This_  is my job now," she insisted as she adjusted his pillows, breaking into his personal space in a way that only his friends ever did when they wanted to annoy him. "Draco begged me to marry you. I think he might have hurt himself doing it and, as amusing as that was to see, I think it would be rather cruel of me to let all of his efforts go to waste if I didn't help actually get you to the wedding, don't you think?"

Theo's brows furrowed. "Hermione, this isn't necessary. I have elves—"

"Who you dismissed," she said knowingly. "Stop arguing with me please, Theo. Now sit up."

He disliked being doted upon and, even worse, appearing weak. But only a fool would dismiss a witch from their bed, especially one that fluffed their pillows. "Not to keep arguing with you," he said, glancing over at the silver tray, "but if we're going to be honest with one another—"

"You mean like the  _business_ you needed to handle today?" Hermione asked with a raised brow.

"Yeah," he said unapologetically. "You should know that I don't eat a lot lately so, as much as I appreciate you having the elves make me lunch—"

"The elves didn't make this, I did. The kitchen is beautiful; I think I'll enjoy cooking in there quite a bit so long as the elves stay out of my way. Poor things," she said with a loud sigh. "I had to literally order them to go and do something else. I hope you needed the floors mopped in every room because, well, that's what's being done right now."

Theo stared at her, shocked. "You . . . You cooked me food?"

"Take this." She ignored his question, placing two tablets in the palm of his hand. "Painkillers."

"Pain Relief Potions don't work."

Hermione smiled at him. "And you'll notice that I didn't give you a potion. Are you always this difficult?"

Shrugging, he threw the tablets in his mouth, noting that her eyebrows raised slightly in response. By the look on her face, he figured that she assumed he would throw a fit about the pills. Her expression of shock faded into a pleased smile, and she placed a glass of juice in his hand.

He swallowed the tablets down but grimaced at the taste of the liquid. "What is this?" he asked, staring at the drink. "It's not juice."

"Milk thistle tea brewed with a bezoar."

Theo frowned. "I haven't been poisoned. And milk thistle isn't used in antidotes."

"Drink it all," she insisted. "Milk thistle will help cleanse your body of all of those potions you've been taking, and the bezoar will give it a little boost. Honestly, Theo, you were in Advanced Potions with me, how do you not know that taking Pain Relief Potions and Invigoration Draughts will make you nauseated?"

Theo's lips parted. "You remember that?"

"Remember that Pain Relief Potions and Invigor—"

"You remember that I was in Advanced Potions with you?"

Hermione paused and sat up straight, smoothing her hands over her trousers. "I . . . Of course. We didn't speak to one another, for obvious reasons, but I knew you were there. You were in Arithmancy with me as well. Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures and—"

"I didn't think you knew who I was," he blurted out and then to cover his words and embarrassment, he drained the glass of horrible tasting tea, hoping that she would not fill the silence by continuing where he left off from their years at Hogwarts. She didn't, thank Merlin.

When he finished the last drop, Theo swallowed and then set the glass aside. "I know it causes nausea, but the pain is too much to  _not_ take a potion most days. Since it has a sedative factor, I have to take the Invigoration Draught to stay awake for . . . well, anything."

"No more potions," Hermione said. "Not unless  _I_  brew them myself. They won't work. You've been cursed, Theo; simple potions can't fight Dark Magic like that."

He looked at her defeatedly. "Then what can? And how would  _you_ know?" he asked, his tone slightly bitter.

Hermione frowned, scratching at her forearm. "Because I've been cursed before.

Theo's gaze was drawn there where he saw the raised scar on her flesh, but he purposely ignored it and looked back up into her eyes.

She hesitated, looking him over curiously before speaking again. "You don't pity me."

He raised an incredulous brow. "Would you like me to?"

"Most do. Draco does. He flinches anytime he sees it. Harry and Ron always look away; I know they blame themselves. Daphne told me that Harry asked her if she would take me shopping so she could pick out all of my blouses, make sure they're long sleeved," she said, very little emotion in her voice. "He thinks it bothers me."

Theo observed her carefully. "Does that upset you? That they want to control you to make themselves feel better?"

Hermione shook her head. "It upsets me that it still upsets  _them_. Do any of us buy Harry headbands to cover the scar on his forehead?"

"You could buy him a hat," Theo suggested. "Cover the scar and his horrible hair all in one."

Hermione smiled, genuinely smiled, and then raked her fingers through his hair. He shivered in response, involuntarily moaning at the contact and then pausing when he heard the noise escape his throat.

Hermione blushed for a moment and then smirked at him. "You're quite responsive. Can't help but think that knowledge will come in handy later on."

_Gryffindor bravery_ , Theo thought with amusement, noticing how she was forcing herself to confront the awkward situation by facing it head on. She was taking the shit they had been given by Voldemort and their friends and controlling it to the best of her ability. No pussyfooting. No tiptoeing. She was diving into the idea of marrying him head first.

He hoped she could swim.

He hoped she moaned when he inevitably delved his fingers through  _her_ hair.

"It's just a scar," he said, returning to their earlier conversation. "A scar that happens to look like a word that doesn't mean anything to me. It could say 'pink hippogriff' on your forearm. Wouldn't make you one."

He could tell that she almost believed his words.

"Maybe we're more alike than I thought," she said.

"No. You didn't do that to yourself," he said, shaking his head. "I was a Death Eater. Draco was a Death Eater, and so were all of our friends with the exception of Blaise, and that was only because Harry Potter had really good timing there at the end. We might have been blackmailed, coerced, or even threatened into it, but it's what we were. We had the brand, wore the robes, donned the masks, and followed his orders."

Hermione looked like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes at him. "It was a war."

"And there were casualties. How many people did  _you_ kill?" he asked, clearly trying to make a point, expecting her answer to obviously be none.

"Three," she replied to his shock.

"What? But . . . But you were the  _good_ guys. They . . . You . . . You don't kill people."

"It was  _war_ ," she reiterated. "We were children defending our lives and the lives of our friends. The first person I killed was a Snatcher. I never learnt his name. Before we were taken to Malfoy Manor, I threw two Stinging Hexes. One hit Harry in the face, disfiguring him as I'd planned, and the other hit a man in the chest. He suffocated to death because his friends were too busy trying to capture us rather than helping him. The other two were Death Eaters, crushed to death under a wall that  _I_ exploded at the final battle."

Theo watched her eyes, noting the changes as she spoke. Sparkle lost, gaze hardening as she mentioned killing people in battle. In war. To survive. To live.

He cleared his throat and decided to put them on even ground. "Two Muggles at a revel just before seventh year," he said quietly. "Every Death Eater had their favourite way to murder, you know. My father was a fan of drowning people. He didn't even realise that I'd sent the Killing Curse at his victims he was too busy holding their heads under water at the river bank where we'd found them. And before you say that I was being a good person by putting them out of their misery, I killed a woman that Christmas because I was ordered to."

"Were you threatened?"

"That's not the point."

"Was it not them or you?"

He shook his head. "You don't understand."

She scooted further toward him on the bed and took his hands in hers. He looked down at her fingers, noticing that the nails were chewed down to the bed, a nervous habit, something she did when stressed. He wanted to know what stressed her. Likely the prospect of marrying a Death Eater.

"We were all terrified children no matter what side we were on. We fought for our lives. The war is over and has been for years. Eat your soup before it gets cold."

She let go of his hands, and he felt foolish for nearly pouting at the loss of them. When she placed the silver tray in his lap, he stared down into the bowl. "I apologise if I throw it up in twenty minutes."

She smiled at him. "Pixy said that she makes you your favourites. Steak and kidney pie, bangers and mash, and roast pork. Too heavy. Too rich. You're not able to eat because you're mixing your potions and then putting the wrong foods on top of them. Eat the soup, you'll feel better. The painkillers I gave you might actually do something to ease the aches. It did for me when I was recovering. Potions wouldn't do a single thing, but Muggle pills helped some."

His pride refused to let him tell her that, somehow, the pain had already lessened a touch. He glanced down at the soup hesitantly.

"Do you need me to feed you?" she asked him incredulously.

Theo turned a wicked smirk up at her. "No, but I wouldn't object to a sponge bath if you insist on playing mediwitch."

He was pleased when she laughed instead of slapping him. It would be terribly unkind of her to smack a dying man, but he would not put it past Hermione Granger if she really wanted to.

Taking a bite of the soup, he forced himself not to moan again like a prat. Of  _course_ she was good at cooking. He wondered if there was anything—aside from flying—that she was not amazing at. A part of him warred with himself in hoping that she was not very sexually experienced just so that he would be able to teach her a few things. Then again, she was likely a natural at that as well.

"I'm going to go and let the elves know they can go back to the kitchen," she said as she stood up, bending once more to tuck the bottom of the sheet into a crisp fold at the corner. "I feel terrible for making them clean the floors, but they hover.

"When you're feeling better, I think we should talk about what we need to do next. We'll need to make a public appearance, of course, tackle whatever needs to be done at Gringotts, and . . ." She hesitated, wringing her hands together. "My umm . . . family wants to meet you. My parents, of course, and then there's a dinner held at the Burrow this Sunday. If you want."

Theo took a breath in between bites, absorbing her words. He did not reply but smiled up at her and watched as she turned and left the room, leaving the door slightly cracked.

Dinner with the future in-laws and Weasleys.

_Fuck_.

She  _really_ wasn't going to let him die.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione situated herself at the large dining table with several parchments set out in front of her. Some were for work, but they were mostly to help tie up loose ends so that Remus was not left dealing with open cases during her forced holiday. The rest of the papers were in regards to the marriage contract, the wedding plans, and everything else that needed to be taken care of.

She was nibbling on the end of a quill when Theo made his way downstairs twenty minutes or so after she had left him. At the sound of his entrance, she looked up, noting that there was a bit more colour to his cheeks after eating. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Thank you."

She smiled brightly at his words and then stole a moment to take in the rest of his appearance as he approached the table. A tight black shirt covered his chest, slightly wrinkled from sleeping in it. His feet were bare which she found strangely endearing considering the man had enough money to buy five-hundred Galleon house slippers if he wanted to. The drawstrings of his pyjama bottoms were distracting as they swung when he walked, pulling her gaze to the blue checkered fabric.

Theo cleared his throat, and she looked up, wide-eyed at being caught gawking at his . . .

"You look organised," he said, gesturing to the table and her lists as he took a seat beside her. "What's first on the agenda?"

Hermione silently thanked him for not dwelling as most of the men she knew would likely do—save perhaps Harry, who would have been just as mortified as she was. "Gringotts. If we're attempting to show that this engagement isn't out of nowhere, then the first time we appear together in public I should be wearing a ring," she said with an annoyed tone. "I've decided to agree to the issue because I know how important some of your traditions are. Plus, Draco wouldn't shut up about it."

"Do you have a preference for style?" Theo asked, taking a seat. "You don't wear much jewellery."

She shook her head, thinking of Luna's engagement ring. "Please nothing . . . too much. I already feel terrible."

"I told you before Hermione, I don't do things by half-measures. I'll agree to adjust the story for the press and others outside of our small circle of friends, but if we're getting married, if you continue to agree to this, I'm all in. You'll wear a ring because you'll be my . . . my wife, and not because it's some accessory for some costume."

Hermione swallowed nervously. "How are you so at ease with this? Your friends showed up at your door, thrust me in your face, and practically forced your hand at signing a marriage contract with a woman you barely know."

Theo raised a brow. "Did you see Draco holding the quill in my hand? I signed of my own accord, thank you. My only objections were in regards to  _your_ decisions. I wanted to make certain that you were not coerced into this arrangement. I don't handle . . . pity very well," he said with a tight jaw. " I'd much rather let myself die than spend a lifetime in a marriage with a woman who regretted my very existence because a curse and busybody Slytherins ruined her life. Please believe me when I say that it's not the choice of  _witch_ I am opposed to."

She stared at him, listening with rapt attention and giving him her full focus. "I don't pity you. I . . . I'm angry on your behalf." She forced a small smile in an attempt to cut the tension in the room. "Besides, you've likely saved me from years of being set up on blind dates arranged by Pansy and Ginny."

"In exchange for a blind  _marriage_ arranged by Draco."

Hermione laughed softly, liking that his tone had lost the self-deprecating sound. "And Luna. I trust her judgment more than the other witches whose only requirement for a potential suitor for me is how his arse looks in Muggle jeans."

" _I_  own Muggle jeans," Theo teased.

She tried to focus so her cheeks didn't flush again. "You're distracting. So, Gringotts and then a public appearance—something simple and not forced. A trip to Flourish and Blotts maybe. There's a new edition of  _Potion Opuscule_  that I've been wanting."

"That will work," Theo agreed. "I need to pick up a few things as well. When I was travelling around Greece, I lost my favourite copy of  _Defensive Magical Theory_."

Hearing the title of the book thrust upon them during fifth year by Umbridge, Hermione shot her head up and gaped openly at him, feeling a lecture burning on the tip of her tongue. " _Defensive Magical_ —" She stopped when she caught him grinning at her. She clicked her teeth together when closing her mouth, and she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "Oh . . .  _you_ , Theodore Nott, are trouble."

"And you, Hermione Granger," he said with a smirk, "are  _very_ easy to rile up."

"Careful," she said, looking down at her lists, "rile me up too much, and I might just find another husband to save through marriage." She tested the waters, hoping that she was not pushing too much considering Theo had more than once per day insisted that she had the option of backing out of the arrangement.

She chanced a glance at him and caught his heated stare. He reached across the table to touch her fingertips with his own.

"What on earth gives you the impression that I'll let you get away from me now?"

She hesitantly smiled and let him lace their fingers together, forcing herself to slowly breathe as she held his gaze, refusing to blink first on the off chance that this was some sort of challenge. "We umm . . . We should get used to this," she said, gesturing with her free hand to their intertwined fingers. "Physical affection and umm . . . Because people will ask questions."

"I did briefly wonder if you would ask to have an experiment of some sort. Something to test to see if we're compatible. Chemistry and such."

Hermione let out a nervous laugh that echoed in the room. "I umm . . . I don't know about you, but I think I'm good on that front."

He grinned, his thumb brushing over her index finger. "I was hoping you'd say that."

She followed his focused gaze to her arms where tiny bumps raised along the skin showing him the results of his very subtle efforts.

"Just in case," he whispered and moved his chair closer to her until they were only inches apart. With his left hand still tangled in hers, Theo used the free fingers of his right hand to touch lightly, just below her chin, and tilt her head easily toward him.

She let out a short quick puff of air, and her eyes widened as he moved closer to her, allowing only the smallest of spaces between them. His nose brushed lightly against her jaw and then cheek. She sucked in a sharp breath when she felt soft lips press to the corner edge of her mouth and a shocking warmth spread down her neck and across her chest.

"That," he said, his mouth hovering still just next to hers, "was  _not_ our first kiss."

"No?" she managed to squeak.

Hermione felt the movement of his lips forming a smile against her skin. She fought to stay in control of her emotions and reactions, but memories of a wine glass pressed to his mouth from the night before followed by the way she had watched him enthusiastically lick the pudding off of their shared fork came to the forefront of her mind and God . . . he was so close and smelled so . . .

Her body finally caved and she visibly shivered, admitting defeat against this formidable opponent.

"No," he said, pressing his lips firmly to her cheek before pulling away entirely. "Our first kiss will not be had while we list ways we can fool the public to believe that our relationship is real."

Hermione swallowed, trying to mentally will her body temperature to lower. "Out of curiosity, when . . . when  _will_ we have umm . . ." she mumbled, unable to ask for something as silly as the timing of their first kiss. They were getting married for Merlin's sake! She was going to have to consummate the bloody thing just to keep him alive!

"I will kiss you," he said as casually as he had done when ordering wine the night before, "when it's real."

* * *

After making plans for the rest of the day, Hermione and Theo parted to get ready.

She took the Floo back to her flat to find that, in her absence, Pixy had cleaned the entire place from top to bottom. Hermione forced her irritation and the thoughts of the elf—and the other eight back at Nott Manor—from her mind and readied herself for the day.

She entered Diagon Alley in search of Theo at the specified time, hands shoved in the pockets of her robes so that no one would see the naked finger on her left hand; not that they would be looking. Smiling when she saw him walking down the steps from Gringotts, she noticed that he had glamours in place once again to disguise his sickly appearance.

As planned, they embraced upon meeting, Theo practically enveloping her in his finely tailored robes.

She felt him subtly slip the chosen engagement ring on her finger. They had rehearsed the move with a transfigured piece of string back at Nott Manor, and Hermione could not tell if it was just her or the both of them that kept insisting on practising repeatedly, using the excuse that it needed to be perfect just so that they could embrace again.

With the ring on her finger, Hermione fell into Theo's warm hug, breathing in his scent that was subtle but distinctively him. She felt him place a kiss to her temple before whispering, "Please don't freak out."

"What?" she replied, feeling panicked that they had been figured out already. "Is there someone—?"

"No," he calmly told her. "I know I promised you something a little more reserved, but this was the  _least_ gaudy piece I could find in the vaults. When you look at your ring, try to remember that you're  _supposed_ to have seen it before."

They pulled away, and Theo took her hand in his, smiling brightly down at her with a look on his face as if she hung the very moon in the sky. In a subtle yet loud enough voice that could be overheard by nosy spectators, he said, "I still can't get enough of seeing you wear this."

Lost in his grin, Hermione almost forgot to look down at the ring. Thankfully, she had rehearsed her line enough times to have the words come out of her mouth automatically. "I know. I'm honestly just happy that you—Jesus fucking Christ!" she shouted when her widened gaze finally fell on her left hand.

People stopped their shopping to stare.

Theo pulled her into another embrace to try and cover up her mistake. Hand tucked between them, she gawked down at the ring on her finger. The pale pink gem—moissanite she guessed, considering the way it sparkled in the light—was the size of a gobstone, enveloped by bright halo of diamonds on a silver band.

"How on earth did three Gryffindors manage to evade the Dark Lord for an entire year on the run?" Theo asked, chuckling against the skin of her ear.

"Sorry," she managed to whisper. "I just . . . This was seriously the  _least—?_  It's not exactly gaudy. It's gorgeous, and still smaller than the boulder that Luna wears, but I don't think all the Galleons in my Gringotts vault could cover the price of this."

Theo pulled away, slipping something into her palm. She looked down and noticed a key. "Technically, you have more Galleons in your Gringotts vaults—yes, plural—than you realised. Everything's all set. You are officially my beneficiary and keyed into the Nott fortune."

Hermione winced as he said "fortune." The word twisted around in her ears before taking a high dive into her stomach with a sickening splash. "I still don't know how I feel about that."

"Feel annoyed, irritated, offended or even . . . it won't matter. It now belongs to the both of us."

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Hermione nodded and then hugged him again, sighing when he wrapped an arm around her waist. He placed a kiss to the top of her head and she smiled at the feel, but her body stiffened when she heard the distinct click of a camera.

"No going back now," she whispered.

"Come on." He took her hand and tugged her toward the bookshop.

Once inside Flourish and Blotts, Hermione realised quickly that Theo was in full Slytherin mode. She had expected over the top gestures to show how  _desperately_ in love they were supposed to be. She had expected him to kiss her hand in front of groups of strangers, loudly call her affectionate pet names that she was certain would make her cringe, and maybe even throw around words like "wedding," "bride," or "wife." He did none of those things.

The moment they stepped into the bookshop, Theo separated from her with casual grace and directed himself toward the books on curses and counter-curses, which seemed appropriate given his career. He looked perfectly at ease standing there, flipping through the pages of a book. Suddenly, Hermione realised that, even inside one of her happiest locations,  _she_ was the one who felt out of place.

Theo, likely picking up on her nerves, walked toward her with three books already in one arm as he gestured to a nearby display with his free hand. "Hey, love," he called to her, using the term with ease as though it had been spoken a thousand times between them. "They've got that new edition of  _Potion Opuscule_  that you've been talking about for months."

_Sneaky snake_ , Hermione thought.

"Wonderful," she said, smiling brightly. "Now you'll have to think of something else to get me for my birthday.".

Theo smirked, raising a challenging eyebrow. "I've got six months until then, I'm sure I'll think of something."

She forced herself not to react to the fact that he had known her birthday, snatched up the book she wanted, and followed him to the counter.

"My treat," Hermione said, stacking their purchases together.

She expected him to fight. Draco, she knew, would fight. He fought her on occasion for trying to pick up coffee or lunch. Blaise would fight. She had seen him purposely buy Ginny the most outrageous things only to have her throw coins at his face in the middle of Diagon Alley.

Theo smiled graciously and said nothing.

As the shopkeep rang up their purchases, Hermione noticed her glance down when Theo leant in from behind Hermione, threading the fingers of his left hand through hers. Hermione lost herself in the moment, wondering when Theo's actions for show ended and the real began. So distracted by the feel of his fingers against hers, she had almost forgotten that they were not alone until she heard the shopkeep gasp. Hermione looked up to see the woman staring at the place where their hands joined, realising what had happened.

Theo's robes had bunched up around his elbow, revealing his Dark Mark which sat gently against the skin of  _her_ arm, pressed right up against her contrasting  _Mudblood_  scar. Only a Caterwauling Charm could draw more attention than that.

She felt him tense behind her. Before he had a chance to move away, she gripped down on his fingers, refusing to part with him. She turned her gaze up to the witch in front of her and smiled sweetly. "Is everything all right, ma'am?"

The woman stared at her in shock and confusion. "I don't know, dear," she said softly. "Are  _you_ all right?"

Hermione pretended to be puzzled by her question. "Quite well, actually. Beautiful day, isn't it?" she asked the woman and then turned her attention to Theo. "Should we skip lunch at the Leaky and just go home? Maybe have a meal outside on the balcony?"

Theo blinked at her with a grateful smile and kissed her forehead. "Anything you like, love."

"Anything I like?" she repeated his words with a smirk as she tried to force herself  _not_ to think about Theo in low hanging blue-checkered pyjamas with drawstrings that swung as though they were begging to be tugged on. She was starting to wonder if perhaps Draco  _had_ slipped her a Love Potion the other day. No, she shook off the thought. This had nothing to do with Draco and everything to do with Luna, who had given her fair warning that Theo was pleasant to look upon. The warning, Hermione noted, had not been loud enough.

"You're blushing," Theo whispered in her ear, and Hermione's eyes snapped up to look at the shopkeep behind the counter, who was holding the bag of books out, shaking it a touch trying to get her attention.

"Sorry!" Hermione snatched the bag quickly, turned, and rushed out of the shop, Theo quietly laughing behind her.


	14. Chapter 14

**March 9th, 2004**

When they left the bookshop, they walked hand in hand through Diagon Alley as casually as possible, appearing as though they were trying to avoid attention rather that garner it. They went to Slug & Jiggers to restock Theo's potion cabinet with ingredients for draughts that Hermione would brew herself to help him with the pains he was suffering from due to the curse. Then they stopped in at the Magical Menagerie for owl treats and food for Crookshanks.

"Oh! I don't even think anyone thought to ask if you liked cats?"

Theo raised a brow. "You have a cat?"

"Half-Kneazle, actually," she said, nervously biting her lower lip.

"I'm fine with cats. My mum used to raise crups. Noisy buggers."

When they exited the Menagerie, bags in hand, Hermione gasped at the sight of two approaching heads of red hair. She grabbed Theo by the robes, yanking him to the side of the building where she ducked out of Fred and George's sight.

Only when she was sure they had passed did she look up and realise that the space between buildings was very limited, and Theo was pressed up against her body, nothing between them but the bag of books they had purchased earlier. One of her hands was pressed up against the flat of his abdomen, and even if she wanted to remove it, there was not enough room to gracefully do so.

Theo smirked at her. "I had you in my bed this morning, and you proposition me in public?"

"You're as bad as Blaise," she said with a laugh, slowly moving herself out from between the building and Theo.

Despite the big display at Flourish and Blotts, they  _did_ eventually end up at the Leaky for lunch where they asked for a secluded table in the back. Hermione had thrown up a Muffliato to keep out eavesdroppers as they laid out the history of their past-fake-but-soon-to-not-be-fake relationship.

"It's important that I meet the Weasleys, isn't it?" he asked her, looking a bit pained—though not curse related.

"They're family," she insisted. "They're loud and pushy, and they're going to make it completely miserable for you, but they're family. They mean well."

He nodded with obvious resignation. "I'll go as long as I'm feeling up to it," he promised. "And your parents? Should I be worried?"

Out of habit, she went on the defence, her lips pursing. "Because they're Muggles?"

Theo, slightly shocked by her tone, put his hands up in supplication. "Because they're your  _parents_ , and I have to assume they're shocked to know that their daughter is not only in a relationship with a man they've never heard of, but that she's getting  _married_ to him."

She frowned, feeling the angry heat in her cheeks turn to mortification. "Sorry," she said, wincing. "I'm a bit protective of them."

"Understandable. I mean no harm. They'll be  _my_ family too soon," he stated matter-of-factly, "and that's something I take very seriously. If I had any family left of my own to share with you, I'd expect the same thing."

Hermione noted his tone when he spoke about his own family, and she did not press the fact that she knew his father was perfectly alive, living out a lifelong sentence in Azkaban for war crimes. Theo was ashamed of his  _own_ Death Eater brand, she could not imagine how he felt about the man who practically forced him to kneel at Voldemort's feet to accept it.

"You should move in today," he said, breaking the awkward silence. "Or at least start. I know you'll likely reject the idea, but I could send over the elves. They're really good at packing things. I was on my own after the war and needed help getting the house situated. They were really helpful."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Pixy already cleaned my flat. But I agree about getting things moved. It'll make it easier and give us a chance to get more comfortable around one another. I owled Daphne earlier to see if she could help, and she mentioned she'd be free this afternoon. Oh!" she said as a thought occurred to her. "Back to the families issue. Mrs Weasley is likely going to be very stern with you when she finds out we're living together. We can say we're in separate rooms, but everyone will just think we're lying."

"Do you  _want_ to be in separate rooms?" he asked curiously.

Hermione laughed nervously, remembering their not-a-first-kiss. "How is this not awkward at all for you?"

Theo shrugged, looking completely nonplussed. "A pretty witch is moving in with me today and is currently wearing a family ring. I'm kind of taking the silver lining as it comes along and clinging like mad to it."

"Mad is right."

"Relax, Hermione. I don't expect you to share my bedroom. Not until you want to. The binding ceremony though . . ." He paused, likely to gauge her reaction to his words as she visibly stiffened. "I'd like us to become comfortable with one another. Physically. That way you're not a bundle of nerves on the wedding night."

Hermione's face flushed. "I'm not some . . . innocent virgin, Theo," she said coolly. "I . . . I won't be a bundle of . . . Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Testing the waters," he replied with a grin. "I meant what I said, though. Now, if you'll forgive me for ignoring your need to talk about the details of our sex life—" He chuckled when her eyes widened from a mix of embarrassment and anger. "—we should figure out what to tell people about  _how_ we got together."

When her annoyance subsided, she agreed with him. "Draco introduced us. That's what I blurted out to my parents in a moment of panic when I basically decided that I was going to go through with this."

She avoided looking at him when their drinks arrived, purposely distracting herself from anything that drew attention to his mouth. His earlier whispers of a future first kiss were still echoing in her ears.

" _Technically,_  Professor Vector introduced us," Theo said with a smile as he took a sip of his water—" _Butterbeer will aggravate your stomach,"_  she had told him—"We were in the same class and she asked you to help some of the other students figure out the calculations."

Hermione furrowed her brows, not remembering the incident. "And you're telling me that you— _you_ , Theo—needed  _my_ help in Arithmancy?" she asked sceptically.

He smirked at her and said nothing as she took a sip of her drink. "Maybe I just wanted to get an up-close look at you."

Theo grinned victoriously when she choked, reaching for her napkin to cover her mouth and catch the dribble as it escaped her mouth and likely her nose if he had timed it perfectly.

"Draco introduced us  _officially_ though," he conceded, sipping casually at his water, "which technically is the truth."

Once she had completely wiped up the mess she'd made, Hermione cleared her throat and blinked rapidly. "You . . . fine . . . umm . . .  _why_ would Draco introduce us? We need a different reason other than you're dying and needing to get married."

He thought about waiting for her to take another drink but the look in her eye said that she'd caught onto his game as she reached forward, pushing her glass several inches away from her to make a point.

"Draco introduced us because I asked him to. He knew that I fancied you back in Hogwarts, but because of all the blood purity bullshit we had to put up with I could never court you properly. Now that the war's been over, and we're both single and he had decent access to your person, I figured it was the right time."

Hermione smiled, looking impressed. "We'll have to tell Draco and possibly Blaise the plan so they can confirm in case anyone asks them about Hogwarts."

Theo smiled at her and wondered how many Slytherins had lied to her in the past to make her assume that he would be anything but completely honest with her here and now.  _No matter_ , he thought.  _She'll figure it out sooner or later_.

"We dated in secret, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves because of the media. Only our closest friends knew, of course. I proposed just before New Years because I knew I wouldn't be around for the holiday. That will cover my trip to Greece and the fact that our engagement isn't a last minute thing. It's been on for months, but we didn't want to make the formal announcement until I had returned to England."

They both smiled in thanks when the waitress arrived to place their meals down in front of them. Hermione had taken the liberty of ordering for him, something bland and likely flavourless but at least more nutritional than anything that would later make him sick.

"And how, may I ask, did you propose to me?" she asked teasingly.

"Oh, it's a romantic tale. I found you in the middle of Diagon Alley, wrapped you in my arms, slipped a ring on your finger, and said, 'Don't freak out.'" A warmth lit up inside of him at the flush that overtook her cheeks. "And then you saw the ring and started screaming obscenities."

"God, that was embarrassing," Hermione said, her head bowed over her plate, hands shielding her face as she quietly laughed. "Can we leave out the part where I screamed at you and replace it with me just accepting your proposal?"

Theo shrugged. "Depends. You haven't actually said 'yes' yet."

Hermione smiled up at him. "I don't think I've actually been  _asked_ yet."

He raised a curious brow. "Draco wasn't romantic on my behalf? What a prat."

"He tried to call in a fake life debt."

Theo laughed, a full belly chuckle as he tried to imagine how well that went over for his best friend. After a moment, he reached for her ring-clad hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "Would you like a grand gesture or quiet romance?" he asked, grinning when she smiled in response and held up two fingers indicating the quieter of the two choices.

He stood up, released her hand, and thought for a moment about how to create a retroactive proposal to tell their friends and her family about—something romantic and memorable. Eventually deciding, he scooted in next to her on her side of the table, he gently grasped her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Hermione, I know we haven't been dating very long, but there is something very important I need to ask you."

She grinned at him, clearly amused by the effort he was putting into the performance. "Well," she said, batting her eyelashes jokingly, "I have a feeling that I know what you're going to ask, Theo, but I must insist we've not been together long enough for any serious commitment. I'm an independent witch with a good head on my shoulders, and you'll have to quite possibly sweep me off my feet if you expect me to throw caution to the wind, Gryffindor or not."

He smirked at her, and Hermione thought about spending the rest of her life staring at that smirk every day.  _This was supposed to be difficult_ , she thought. Marrying someone she did not know very well. A Slytherin. A former Death Eater. Someone who . . . who needed her. But he made her smile and strangely feel like she was the focus of his entire world when they were together. And in  _her_ world that often revolved around the fact that she was surrounded by Weasleys and Harry Potter, being the focus of someone else was a delightful new feeling. She tried her very best not to get caught up in it.

"That lovely head on your shoulders is what drew me to you in the first place," he said and reached out to touch a curl of her hair. "This hair; it's positively filled with magic. Do you notice that there are at least six different shades and they change in the sunlight? So very unique. Unique and magical in a world where everything is supposed to be unique and magical but is not."

Her teasing smile fell when he touched her bottom lip with his thumb. "I'm going to kiss these lips one day very soon," he whispered, and her breath caught somewhere in her chest. "What was I saying? Oh, yes, I have a question for you."

Hermione slowly nodded, watching with interest as his eyes flickered as though he were trying to remember something important. Then he ran a hand through his dark brown hair, and she watched as the layers fluttered back against one another as soft as falling feathers.

"Pay attention, love. This is very important."

She blushed a little and then smiled, focusing her attention on him.

_"'I don't love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire.'"_

Hermione's mouth opened as she recognised the words.

Of  _course_ he would know Muggle poetry.

He was a Slytherin Curse-Breaker who was at the top of their class—next, of course, to her—who was brilliant, sweet and strangely humble for a man surrounded by boastful friends. He had accepted death when his Hogwarts House taught him self-preservation. He quietly opposed blood-supremacy on the side of a war that insisted upon it. He was kind to elves, talented at picking out flowers, and his taste in wine was almost as good as his taste in pudding.

Of fucking  _course_ he would know Muggle poetry.

_"'I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul,'"_ he whispered, smiling as he laced their fingers together but not before removing the pale pink ring from her finger.  _"'I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself, and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth lives dimly in my body.''"_

_Body_ , Hermione thought as her head began to get a little foggy.

_"'I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you.'"_ He brought her fingers up to his lips and kissed the tips of them each individually before staring into her eyes and slipping the ring back onto her finger.

Unlacing their fingers, he placed her hand over his heart so she could feel it beating hard against her palm and then leant in, pressing his forehead gently against hers.  _"'So intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.''"_

Hermione almost choked on an exhale, breathing in quickly after and tasting his breath he was so close.

Her eyes closed, and she could feel his lips ghosting over hers as he quietly said, "Marry me."

"Oh, yes," she said breathily.

He once again placed his lips against the corner edge of her mouth before whispering in her ear, "That wasn't our first real kiss either. When I kiss you for real, it will not be in the shadows of a pub where no one can see, hiding, like it's something I'm ashamed of."

She opened her eyes and found him still so very close, gazing at her. "No?"

"No. The back of a pub in the shadows where no one can see is where I will do many  _other_ delightful things," he said quietly but firmly, his tone indicating the inevitability of his words. "But I'll do all of that," he paused to grin, "and more  _after_  I've kissed you."


	15. Chapter 15

**March 9th, 2004**

Hermione was two glasses of wine and a cold shower in by the time Daphne arrived at her flat to help her pack. Her morning with Theo had been slightly worrisome, but the early afternoon had been nothing but a lovely surprise. He was all sweetness and words and hovering lips and lingering touches. By the time they had parted and Hermione had returned home, she needed a shower at best, a change of knickers at most.

"Mother of Merlin, that ring is gorgeous!" Daphne said when she grabbed Hermione's hand.

Hermione had opened her arms for a hug of greeting but was instead cut off by the witch-shaped niffler.

While Daphne was busy ogling the engagement ring on her hand, Hermione snatched her friend's wrist to compare rings. "Oh, thank goodness. I was starting to worry that it was bigger than yours," she said in genuine relief. "Theo said this was the smallest piece in his family vaults."

"That's likely true. All of the old families weren't exactly simple with their style and taste in heirlooms. I mean, you've seen Luna's wedding ring," Daphne said, shaking her head. Hermione agreed with her. Draco really did not know how to be subtle in the slightest. "Ridiculous. Yours is beautiful, though. I think it looks wonderful on you."

"Thanks," Hermione said, looking at the soft pink stone with affection. She had occasionally thought about getting married over the years, but had never expected a ring this extravagant—or the heated proposal that came with it. "I might have screamed at him in the middle of Diagon Alley over it."

"Screamed as in yelled?"

"I was in shock. I wasn't expecting  _this_ ," she said defensively, throwing her left hand around to show Daphne how the stone glittered in the sunlight that was creeping through the windows. "We might have attracted some attention."

"Oh, I would have killed to have been there," Daphne said with a laugh, following Hermione down the hallway to the study, but not before grabbing an open bottle of wine that was perched on the kitchen counter and taking it with her. "So, your boss gave you the month off?"

Hermione scoffed. "And then some."

"That was nice of him."

"He's a prat."

"Workaholic," Daphne teased. "You need a new hobby. Like planning a wedding."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she stepped into the study. With a flick of her wand, she transfigured the cheap cardboard boxes she had picked up into sturdy plastic containers. "I'd rather pack up books right now, thanks."

After silently packing for several minutes, Hermione stood up and sighed. "What was your first kiss with Harry like?"

Daphne, caught drinking straight from the bottle, nearly choked on her mouthful. "Oh my gods," she said excitedly after swallowing. "Did Theo kiss you?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "What? No!" she insisted and then paused as she remembered his lips pressed to the corner of her mouth at the Manor. "No." His lips pressed to the corner of her mouth at the Leaky Cauldron and ghosting over hers as he proposed marriage. "No. Well, not yet."

"Yet?" The blonde raised a brow. "What happened? Tell me everything."

Hermione sat down. She was not normally one for gossip, but she had to get her thoughts out of her head, and she knew that Harry and Ron would likely beg her to stop talking, Ginny would probably encourage her to drop everything she was doing and show up at Nott Manor in a racy negligee, Luna needed Draco to translate for her, and Hermione was  _not_ going to talk to  _him_ about Theo for all the Galleons in the world. Daphne was her best bet at a normal conversation.

"God, I don't even know how to describe it. He's so intense. Romantic. Sweet."

Daphne grinned. "Sexy."

"Should I be offended that you think my future husband is sexy?"

The blonde chuckled. "Possessive already?"

"No, of course not," she said with a scoff, briefly remembering that Daphne had been willing to marry Theo to save his life as a last resort. It could have been  _Daphne_ watching Theo lick tiramisu off of a shared fork at the Firehouse.

She felt a strange bubble of anger build inside her chest, and she admitted, "Maybe a little. Look at him for crying out loud," she said emphatically. "How were Draco and Blaise not able to find a witch willing to marry him before now? He's so close to perfect that it's starting to make me worry about the other shoe dropping."

"What?"

"Other shoe dropping. It's a Muggle phrase that means—"

"No, not that," Daphne said, shaking her head. "The Draco and Blaise thing. Pansy and I were all part of the whole save-Theo plan. We all got together just after January when Theo stopped replying to our owls, and we realised that he wasn't going to do anything to save himself. The backup was, of course, that I would step in if needed because—" She stopped mid sentence and let out a shaky breath. "Hermione, I couldn't let him die."

Hermione frowned in understanding. "I know, Daph, I don't judge you. I know you love Harry. Honestly, if something like this happened years ago, I would have done the same thing for either Harry or Ron. We would have been miserable for the rest of our lives, but still."

"Hermione, what do you remember about Theo from school?"

She shook her head. "Not much. I know he was in a lot of my classes. I remember he could see the thestrals, and he was in Advanced Potions. He said I helped him once in Arithmancy."

Daphne raised both eyebrows. "He didn't say  _anything_ else?"

"No," Hermione replied, starting to feel slightly panicked. "Why?"

"Hermione, Theo's . . . He was  _enamoured_ with you when we were at Hogwarts."

She stared at her friend and wondered if perhaps the Slytherin definition of the "enamoured" differed from the rest of the world.

"What?"

Daphne frowned slightly. "He couldn't say anything really, not with Draco being a giant prat and Pansy . . . well, you know how she was— _is_. I never really cared, of course, and Theo and I had always been close, so he told me. He said he thought you were brilliant and beautiful.

"Draco eventually found out and teased him relentlessly for it. They got into a  _big_ fight once over it and they both ended up in the Hospital Wing. Draco eased up on teasing you and Theo never said another word about it. It wasn't until recently that he even brought it up again. I think it was when you got in that duel over that house-elf thing, and Draco had to take you to St Mungo's. Theo inquired about you in one of his letters. Wanted to know if you were okay."

Hermione took a moment to try and process the words. She didn't understand. She had barely known he existed, something she now felt incredibly guilty about. How had she missed something like this? "He didn't know me. Why would he . . . ?"

"I didn't say he was  _in love_ with you," Daphne said. "But he respected what he  _did_ know of you. And when we all became friends, and you were kind of grafted into our lives, I mean . . . we talked, of course."

"Why didn't anyone . . . ? Why wait until . . . until  _this_?" Hermione asked. She wondered if everything would have been different. Had Draco or Daphne said something years ago, would she and Theo have fallen together naturally with as much ease as they seemed to be doing right now? Would they have gotten married? Would Theo have ended up like Draco? Worried that the curse would hit him but in the end, the anniversary of his Marking would go by with no effect?

"Because he was always gone for work, and then this curse happened," Daphne said, shrugging. "When we got together, we realised that Theo wasn't going to save himself unless . . . it was  _you_. Hermione, I don't know what Draco told you, but you were the  _only_ witch we even thought of. I really think the two of you will be good together. I think he'll learn to love you very quickly."

Hermione felt her heart racing. "It's too fast."

_Wasn't it too fast?_

"They don't call it  _crawling_ in love," Daphne said with a smirk. "So, you said he was intense. What does that mean?"

"He proposed to me," Hermione whispered, feeling like she was crawling out of an avalanche of information. "Officially."

She remembered the sonnet and the way he spoke. How his eyes darkened and sparkled at the same time, and she could smell the citrus on his breath from the lemon that had been in his water as he breathed softly against her mouth, the silent promise of a kiss yet to come.

"Has it always been that hot inside the Leaky Cauldron?" she asked and then laughed before going into detail about Theo's proposal.

When Hermione finished her story, Daphne burst into giggles. "Oh, he's good. That's amazing. You need to Pensieve that memory and save it forever. Or share it with others."

The witches set to work again, filling boxes with books and photo albums, some of Hermione's old files from work that she had taken home to research. They emptied the bathroom of all of her personal affects, her toiletries, and the few potions she kept in the cabinet.

Daphne insisted on clearing the closet on her own, telling Hermione that she would label the boxes and if she had not worn anything in the ones labelled "Donate" in the next six months, then she had to get rid of whatever was inside.

Hermione, not wanting to argue, fled to her kitchen to pack up everything with a wave of her wand.

When she rejoined Daphne in the bedroom to go through her dressers, she started folding up her knickers and bras by hand when she felt anxiety begin to grow inside of her. "I'm nervous. He makes me nervous. I mean, I'm not completely inexperienced but . . . it's been a while."

Daphne looked up from her place on the floor where she was attempting to rescue a boot that was stuck beneath Hermione's bed. "Muggles right? There was that guy with the blond hair and glasses."

Hermione nodded remembering Alan, whom she had met in passing at the Thai restaurant she and Ginny frequented. They had gone out on three dates, and Hermione, desperate for some sort of relief, had caved on the second.

"Almost a year ago," she said. "And that was just some fun to let off steam. Before him, it was another Muggle six months before that, and he didn't even last three weeks. Before that, it was Terry, and Ron before him."

"You and Terry lasted a while though," Daphne pointed out. "Most of that last year at Hogwarts, right?"

Hermione sighed loudly. "It wasn't very good."

Daphne finally grabbed the boot and sat up, holding it in the air much like Harry would with a freshly caught Snitch. "Wait. Isn't Terry the one who . . . ?"

"He and Neville are very happy together," Hermione said. "They have a cottage in the Cotswolds. Big garden. Neville helps grow and distribute Aconite for the Wolfsbane Potion. They grow regular stuff too. Terry sends me baskets of peppers and cucumbers every spring."

"Cucumbers?" Daphne giggled. "How big—?"

Hermione smirked. "It's not the size of the cucumber, Daphne, it's—"

"How you pickle it?"

They burst into laughter.

A large shared glass of wine was consumed from a mason jar because Hermione had already packed away and shrunk the boxes from the kitchen. The two sat on the floor of the now empty bedroom passing the jar back and forth.

"I wouldn't worry about you and Theo," Daphne said. "You clearly have chemistry and, well . . . you're getting married anyway. Might as well enjoy it, right? Is it really rushing into things when your wedding is next month? Would you rather relax and develop a relationship with him naturally, or hold back and then have to face it awkwardly when you have to consummate to seal the binding?"

Hermione sighed. "Good point."

* * *

After parting at the Leaky Cauldron, Theo returned home to the Manor, grabbed his broom and went flying for the first time in months. Stress of the curse, not to mention the physical sickness that came with it, prevented him from taking to the air. After an afternoon without getting sick and a few extra Muggle painkillers from Hermione, Theo was feeling the best he'd felt in months. He could not imagine how great he would feel once they'd actually completed the binding, rendering the curse null and void.

_The binding._

_Hermione._

_Gods, she smelled so good._

He had thought about it for years at Hogwarts, staring at the variety of colours in her hair and watching as she bit her lip in concentration when working on a particularly difficult translation in Ancient Runes. He'd watch those lips, desperate to kiss them.

There had been other girls in the middle of his "strange Muggle-born phase" as Draco had referred to it. No matter how lovely he thought Hermione had been, she was a Muggle-born and a Gryffindor and likely wouldn't have even given him the time of day regardless of the House loyalties and war, merely because he was best friends with Malfoy. And a growing teenage boy could only wank so much in the showers before the girls Blaise would sneak into the dorm rooms began looking more and more appealing.

" _Short trysts."_  That was what Blaise told him. " _You don't want to end up like Draco with Pansy walking you around by the end of your cock, do you?"_

And no, Theo had not wanted that.

So the occasional Ravenclaw would catch his attention when her Hufflepuff friend took an interest in Blaise, and the pair would go back to the common room, slip past the prefects—Draco and Pansy, who were usually stuffed behind the curtains of the blond's four-poster anyways. Then, they would walk the girls out minutes—and eventually hours—later before curfew went into effect.

His post-Hogwarts romantic life had been a series of one-night stands to keep the aches of loneliness away. Nothing picked up off of Knockturn Alley, of course, but the occasional witch he'd meet at the Leaky would go home with him for a night in the understanding that it was just the one night.

When he went to Egypt things got easier. There was a language barrier that was easily fixed with firewhisky or an Egyptian wine called Abarka that Theo took a special preference to when a fellow Curse-Breaker had taken him and a bottle home with her, and they hadn't emerged for two weeks.

Returns to Britain were filled with visits to his friends, which often included Pansy's kid, and the idea of drunken one-night stands—where the prospect of forgetting a Contraceptive Charm was high—all but ended.

Then the curse hit.

But . . . Hermione.

Hermione was as close to perfection as a witch could get in his eyes. All hair and curves and softness in places that he would occasionally brush his fingertips against when they were walking down Diagon Alley side-by-side. She had grabbed his robes and pulled him behind the Magical Menagerie, and he'd been forced to think of terrible things to avoid an embarrassing situation.

When they'd sat down at the Leaky for lunch, and she had placed a black napkin in her lap, it reminded Theo of his bedsheets, and fantasies of her sprawled on them, naked, her hair spread out around her in a halo. She would buck and writhe beneath him as he feasted upon her. He had never been so happy to see a glass of ice water when the waitress had arrived with the drinks.

Thoughts of Hermione's breath catching as he whispered words of love and devotion to her came to his mind as the cold wind beat against him while he flew his broom higher and higher through the field behind the Manor. His skin was still hot from the thought of his lips just hovering above hers. He had wanted her so much that it was building an ache deep inside of him, but he knew she was not ready. Hell, he had only been ready himself because, somehow, she'd miraculously cured him of his nausea and pain that day, and his sex drive was returning with gratitude.

When the cold air was no longer helping after what felt like hours of flying, Theo returned to the Manor, put his broom away, and noted that there were boxes stacked in various rooms throughout the house.

 _Hermione and Daphne must be moving everything over_ , he thought.

Knowing that it was only polite to assist in the move, Theo headed for the shower, desperate to wash the stink off of him from flying before seeing Hermione again. She had already witnessed him nearly vomit that morning, she did not need to smell him like this in the evening.

He stepped beneath the warm water and turned the temperature down a touch to try and ease the one "ache" that Hermione's Muggle pills had not been able to help with. When cold water did not work either, Theo decided to take care of the problem himself. He certainly was not expecting his fiancée of a whole two days to assist him with it tonight.

The soap rinsing down the front of his chest provided ample slickness as he ran his long fingers down the front of his cock, turning over and running his thumb against the tip before encircling it with his hand and gripping tight. He hissed at the contact.  _Gods, it had been too long_. Weeks since he had felt healthy enough to care, let alone have the ability to harden. But he was hard now. Aching. Throbbing.

His hand smoothed along his erection at a relaxed pace, enjoying the moment while it lasted, closing his eyes and letting fantasies of Hermione fill his mind. Her supple body spread out on his black sheets. Standing there with him beneath the beating shower, skin slick with soap, bubbles dripping between her breasts, pooling in her navel. He had never seen Hermione's bare stomach before, but he was already making plans of drinking champagne off of it.

He moaned as he felt his body tightening—abs hard, thighs stiff—and he increased his pace.

He'd proposed marriage to the witch. Not some half-arsed contract that Draco had drawn up and guilted her into signing. Not some pity-filled plead. He had whispered to her, nearly kissed her, wanted to devour her, and asked—no, he hadn't asked . . . he'd pleaded, insisted, demanded. " _Marry me."_

She said yes.  _Actually_ said yes.

The pressure was building and building, a fire that had been stoked for far too long and desperately needed to burn out completely.

Then he remembered: she hadn't  _just_ said yes.

" _Oh, yes."_

Oh. Yes.

"Oh, fuck, yes!"

Theo moaned as he came, pulsing in his hand and thinking of the way her lips softly parted when she had accepted his proposal—accepted  _him_ , broken, dying, Death Eater.

He quietly laughed in relief and smiled as he realised that, for the first time in months, he came without thinking,  _I'm sure going to miss this when I'm dead_.

When he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped low around his waist, he was shocked to see a witch in his bed. He looked around in a brief panic to find Daphne nowhere in sight. Hermione was sleeping, buried in a mass of black sheets wearing what looked to be flannel pyjama bottoms and an old, faded Harpies t-shirt. She was softly breathing and didn't move at the sound of the bathroom door closing.

Curious and slightly concerned, Theo slipped out of the bedroom and closed the door softly behind him. "Pixy?" he called and smiled when the house-elf appeared in front of him.

"Master is looking so well," she said with a bright grin on her face, practically jumping off the balls of her feet. "Mistress is a good witch. Talented. She heals Master, nicely."

Theo couldn't stop himself from smirking. "Pixy, Hermione's in my bed."

"Mistress and Missy Harry Potter's Lady," she said, as she'd started addressing Daphne of late, "brought many boxes. Almost done, theys said. Not needing elves help." She looked a bit put out by that. "Mistress says she's tired and goes to sleep."

"In my bed?" Theo asked.

"Mistress writes a note."

Theo, raising a brow, opened the door and walked back into the room, quietly stepping toward the bed where, sure enough, a note rested on his pillow. He picked it up and smirked at Hermione's now familiar cursive, the words on the parchment echoed back his own from earlier that day:

_Theo,_

_Testing the waters._


	16. Chapter 16

**March 10th, 2004**

Sometime in the middle of the night, or early in the morning when the sky was still black and the stars brightly dotted the sky, Hermione awoke to the bed vibrating. She quickly opened her eyes, and the unfamiliar surroundings had her reaching for her wand. Only after muttering a quick Lumos did she remember where she was: Nott Manor. Theo's bed.  _Our bed._

She swallowed down her nerves and tried to school her face into an expression worthy of a Gryffindor when she turned to her right to find the source of the vibrations.

Deep in slumber, t-shirt damp with sweat, and black sheets bundled around him, Theo shivered so badly that the mattress beneath them shook.

Hermione frowned and leant forward, pressing a hand to his forehead to feel him burning up. "Oh God," she whispered and then flicked her wand, quickly placing a Cooling Charm over his body to temporarily lower his rising body temperature.

Cursing herself for thinking that chicken soup and some adjusted potions would fix him, Hermione pulled herself from the bed and rushed to the other side of the mattress.

"Theo," she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders, trying to be cautious as she gently attempted to wake him.

Caution was important; she had learnt that shortly after the war when sleeping beside Ron. She had once woken early at the Burrow and, terrified of being alone, slipped into the upstairs bedroom to crawl in next to her then boyfriend. The subtle movement paired with paranoia leftover from battle caused him to jump to attention, arms flailing and nearly hitting her in the jaw. A week later, Harry had been punched in the nose trying to wake him when he had slept in late and missed breakfast.

Hermione assumed the Death Eaters and war heroes had similar reactions, and there was no way of knowing how Theo would wake.

"Theo," she whispered again, sighing in relief when his eyes opened.

"Y-Y-You're h-here . . ." he managed to say, teeth chattering.

"I'm going to be right back, okay?" she promised and then quickly fled the room, returning minutes later to find that he had wrapped himself tighter in the wet sheets. "I'm going to levitate you. I need you to relax as much as possible and not move or else I'll have to put you in a Body-Bind." At his weak nod, she waved her wand and levitated him carefully into the bathroom toward the tub that she had filled with lukewarm water. "Looks like you're getting that sponge bath a lot sooner than I'd expected," she muttered as she lowered him, still fully dressed, into the water.

He stopped shivering almost instantly, and she was shocked with how impacting her relief was.

She knelt beside the bathtub, cupping her left hand in the water and bringing it up to dribble against the parts of him left above the surface while her right hand soothingly stroked through his damp hair until his eyes closed and he leant to the side, pressing his cheek against her knee.

_Son of a bitch_ , she angrily thought as the memory of Voldemort came into her thoughts. To make herself feel better and stop the tears from welling in her eyes she focused on the memory of Harry killing the bastard—his cold body hitting the floor of the Great Hall, the thudding sound echoing around them. That thudding sound was a lullaby that chased away nightmares.

She stroked Theo's cheek with the pad of her thumb and brushed the hair from his forehead. There was a tiny sliver of a scar at his hairline, and the moment she touched it, she remembered.

_Stepping down from Dumbledore's office after the final battle at Hogwarts, Hermione stood hand in hand with Ron and Harry as they walked through the Great Hall, looking around as people attempted to help clear away rubble, move the dead, and heal the wounded. Just outside the large doors, a sight drew their attention: the Order, or what was left of it, had men and boys clad in black robes, bound in rope and on their knees in a long line with their backs up against the castle._

_Lucius Malfoy was shouting._

" _Did you see me fight? I could have been on your side, and you wouldn't have even known!" he yelled as Aurors dragged him, literally kicking and screaming, to a sanctioned Apparition Point that had been set up by Professors Flitwick and McGonagall._

_Ginny was holding on tightly to a wide-eyed Luna who, at the time Hermione hadn't known, was staring at Draco. The blond had his own eyes focused on the ground while his father hollered until the sounding crack of Disapparition carried his screams far away. Draco and Greg Goyle were covered in ash, faces blackened by the fire in the Room of Requirement. To their left, knelt other familiar faces: Adrian Pucey, Graham Montague, Cassius Warrington, and Marcus Flint._

_And Theo._

_Sweet Theo in Death Eater robes; a broken silver mask on the ground by his knees._

" _They're hurt!" someone was screaming, and Hermione saw Daphne rush forward only to be held back by Aurors making threats of arrest. "They're hurt! It's not their fault! They didn't want to! Draco! Theo!"_

" _Someone get that girl out of here!" a man Hermione didn't know yelled._

_Blaise came up and took Daphne by the shoulders, pulling her away and catching her younger sister, Astoria, by the arm as she too tried to reach the young Death Eaters. "You can't help them if you're arrested too."_

_Harry and Hermione approached Tonks, who was clinging to Remus for dear life in the aftermath of battle, grateful that they had survived. Sirius, somewhere in the distance, was yelling at Charlie Weasley to get some loose dragons under control before the hospital wing ended up on fire._

" _Tonks, they're injured." Harry gestured to the Death Eaters. Draco and Greg were both badly burnt, Graham Montague was favouring a shoulder that looked dislocated, and a clearly terrified Theo was badly bleeding from his head. "They deserve trials and proper care. I didn't fight a monster so that the victors could turn into more."_

_Tonks smiled at him and nodded, pulled away from Remus and moving past the other Aurors, wand drawn, to offer Healing Charms to the soon-to-be tried young Death Eaters._

Hermione sighed and leant forward, placing a kiss to the small scar on Theo's forehead, sighing in relief when she felt that his fever had reduced. She pulled away and looked down into his heavy-lidded but open eyes. "Hey," she whispered. "How do you feel?"

"Better," he said in a hoarse voice. "What happened?"

"You spiked a really bad fever. You were shaking and woke me up. God, Theo . . . how often do you wake up covered in sweat?".

He looked like he was trying to shrug. "Did I feel you kiss my forehead?"

"Yeah."

"That wasn't our first kiss either," he said quietly.

Hermione smiled softly. "You don't want our first kiss to be in a bathtub?" she teased.

Theo smirked; it almost looked like it hurt. "Not unless you plan on getting in here with me."

* * *

Hours later, Hermione left the manor to fetch the rest of her belongings and track down her Kneazle, who apparently enjoyed sneaking out of her flat for days at a time to hunt mice and snakes and rats—" _He really enjoys killing rats,"_  Hermione had said.

Theo left his home, finding himself at Draco's, sitting in the much too large study that used to belong to Lucius but now belonged to his friend.

Draco sat behind the massive desk, dragonhide boots kicked up on the wood, a coaster resting beneath the heel—"Because I like to be comfortable  _and_ not ruin the walnut burl finish on an antique."

Blaise stood near the bookshelves, flipping through old tomes that very likely could curse him if he turned to the wrong page. It was a good thing Theo was there, just in case.

"She's saving me," Theo admitted quietly, not quiet enough that he did not draw the attention of both of his friends.

"That's the idea, idiot," Draco drawled in a bored tone. Bored, he had said, because he'd found out that Hermione had been forced to take a holiday from work, and  _he_ was not about to spend his days listening to Amos Diggory complain about the abundance of paperwork in her absence. He also wasn't going to do said paperwork himself.

Theo found himself unable to form the right words to tell them what had happened the night before when he had woken in what felt like unbearable heat and frigid cold at the same time. She had been there, caring for him, saving him, easing his fears and pains and making the shivering stop. He could not tell them that she had run her fingers through his hair and stripped his t-shirt to wash the sweat from his chest. Could not tell them that he had grinned at her, tired as he was, and still she blushed. Her cheeks turned the same shade of pink as the engagement ring on her finger that told the world she'd chosen  _him_.

The reasons didn't even matter anymore; she'd chosen him.

"I think I'm falling in love with her," he admitted when his chest tightened uncomfortably, the thought appearing in his head almost at the same time as it reached his mouth.

Blaise turned around, eyes wide and smirking.

Draco looked up from the Gringotts statements he'd been staring at. "Merlin," he said, rolling his eyes. "Three bloody days engaged to a Gryffindor, and she's ruined you. I'm glad  _I_  married a Ravenclaw."

* * *

"I need the files, Harry," Hermione said as she stopped by the Ministry in relaxed Muggle clothes. She had planned to stop by Remus's office to offer proof that she was enjoying a proper holiday—despite showing up at work. After gaining his approval and a stern "Get out," she made her way to the Auror Department where she stumbled—not so coincidentally—into Harry. "It's important. I need to know what happened."

"You  _know_ what happened, Hermione," Harry told her. "The curse killed them. Cases have been closed. Ron and I spent all day yesterday going back through everything and pinpointing the signs on Warrington, Montague, Flint, and Goyle. Malfoy was right—and please understand how much it pains me to admit that—it all points to the curse."

"I need to know how they died."

He stared at her. "Hermione, their magical cores were drained—"

"I need to know their  _symptoms_. I need to know how they suffered," she said in a pleading tone.

Harry frowned and placed a hand on her shoulder before pulling her into his arms. "Hey, it's okay, Hermione. Bloody hell, Daph was right," he whispered to himself but didn't say anything more.

"Can you get me the files?" she asked again, and he nodded.

"Out of curiosity, why didn't you ask Ron?

She pulled away and wiped at her eyes. "Because I didn't know if he'd be able to get them for me."

He furrowed his brows. "He has the same clearance that I—"

"You're Harry Potter."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't use my name to—"

"How'd you get Daphne Weird Sisters tickets for her birthday?"

Harry crossed his arms, his nose twitching. "I paid good money for them," he said defensively.

She raised a brow. "And the backstage passes?"

He pursed his lips.

Hermione chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Harry Potter."

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

When they reunited at home— _their_ home now—Theo was greeted by a happy witch, her arms full of the ugliest cat he had ever seen in his entire life.

He did not say a word about the beast but leant down to lightly scratch it behind the ears when she put it on the floor. He smiled when Hermione beamed in response, telling him that "Crooksie" usually attacks strangers and people he didn't like. Theo felt equal parts of relief and concern. She couldn't have warned him about that fact  _before_ she brought the beast into his home?  _Their_ home?

At their pleading, Hermione taught the elves how to make lighter, healthier dishes for dinner and didn't even complain when they politely kicked her out of the kitchen.

They ate dinner in the breakfast nook at Hermione's request. "That dining table is overcompensating for something."

When they eventually crawled into his bed— _their_ bed—she smiled sweetly at him. He reached across the expanse of space between them, not wanting to push too far too fast, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the centre of her palm before shutting his eyes and falling asleep.

Hermione stayed awake, nervously waiting for something bad to happen. For Theo to start shivering, burning up. For him to wake screaming in agony. For him to die quietly.

An hour and forty-two minutes exactly after he fell asleep, she filled the gap in the centre of the bed and placed the flat of her palm against his chest so that his beating heart and shallow breaths soothed her into her own slumber.


	17. Chapter 17

**March 12th, 2004**

Friday evening, Theo and Hermione invited all of their friends over to have dinner and help unpack her things. When the books were all properly shelved and everyone tired of listening to Pansy complain about things she wasn't allowed to eat, the witches separated from their men and moved into the kitchen where Hermione insisted on carrying the empty plates.

"Where are all the bloody elves?" Pansy asked, looking around the empty kitchen.

"I gave them the night off." When her friends all stared at her incredulously, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay fine, I had Theo send them to another wing of the manor to organise and clean random things. I hate the sight of them waiting on us hand and foot. It's unnerving."

"Just ignore her," Ginny said, brushing Pansy aside. "Now go back to the sleeping in his bed thing."

Hermione shrugged as if sharing a bed with Theo was not that big of a deal. She schooled her expression to hide the nerves she knew she would show if she didn't put in the effort to conceal them. "Technically, I suppose it's  _our_ bed now, isn't it?"

Ginny laughed. "But you just . . . jumped into  _your_ bed with him?"

Hermione glared. "Not like that," she said, leaning forward to fill the sink up with hot water, wondering if she could get away with cleaning the dishes without the house-elves sensing that she was doing housework on her own and popping in to shoo her away. "I just . . . We have to eventually. I figured might as well get the awkward part of it out of the way. Plus, God, the sheets," she said with a moan. "Ginny. Imported Acromantula silk that's pushed off as Egyptian cotton. I have a bloody Order of Merlin, and I'd gladly trade it for just  _one_ pillowcase."

"The sexy wizard sleeping next to you in the sheets isn't so bad either, is he?"

"It's not like that," Hermione said sheepishly, reminding herself that sharing Theo's bed was just a stepping stone that needed to be taken. It didn't  _mean_ anything. In fact, it was quite possibly necessary considering the fevers he had during the night.

Hermione would wait each night for Theo to fall asleep and then cross the empty barrier of their bed to place her hand against his firm chest to feel for a heartbeat. Sometimes, she would count each one instead of counting sheep, timing them along with every breath he took as she studied his face. The length of his dark eyelashes, the strong line of his jaw, and the way his neck would stretch as he adjusted his position in his sleep.

"It's not like that  _yet_ ," Daphne said and chuckled. Hermione shot her a look. "What? Why are you acting demure? He's a gorgeous man who you're  _engaged_ to. The world isn't going to blush and turn the other way at the thought that you might be shagging your future husband."

"We're not shagging," Hermione insisted, lowering her voice as though the men in the other room could hear them. "And we've been engaged for less than a week."

"I'd stop saying stuff like that now to give you any chance of passing off the fake relationship story you've plotted," Pansy threw out, reminding Hermione of the story that she and Theo had concocted. "You've been engaged for months and dated long before that, Granger. Besides, you're not the virginal little golden girl we all made fun of you for in school. Haven't you fucked a bunch of Muggles and then never contacted them again?"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "What? How would you—?"

"Food doesn't just go into my husband's mouth. Words also tend to come  _out_ of it."

"That gossipy prat," Hermione growled.

"If it makes you feel any better, I hear Theo's fantastic at fucking."

"Pansy!" Daphne said reproachfully but still laughed.

"What? You shared the dungeons with the rest of us," Pansy said, completely unashamed. "Those walls echoed, and not everyone used Silencing Charms. Merlin, half the time when I was with Draco, I'd hear Blaise and Theo's nightly conquests and be tempted to offer a trade."

"Draco doesn't like being dominated," Luna serenely said with a sweet smile on her face that made Hermione nervous. Sometimes she wondered if Luna was working a long game. Let them all think I'm crazy and then conquer the world when they're not looking. The fact that she married Draco Malfoy, of all people, only furthered suspicions.

Pansy made a face. "Draco hates being on bottom."

"He likes it when he can control everything," Luna said, ignoring the way that both Hermione and Ginny cringed at the idea of anyone having sex with Draco. "I'm  _very_ flexible."

Ginny made a gagging noise. "Didn't want to know that."

Pansy smirked and got that evil glint in her eye that made her friends nervous and strangers uncomfortable. "Your  _brother_ on the other hand," she said to Ginny, "now he  _loves_ being domina—"

Ginny wailed and covered her ears with her hands.

"And if you think his  _ears_ turn red when he's embarrassed, you should see how red his arse turns after a few good slaps."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I love being grown up and mature," she said sarcastically. "Should we discuss our favourite choices of wine and the new Ministry policies? No? We're just going to talk about our sex lives, or in my case, lack thereof, like rutting teenagers? Ginny, he's your brother, he has sex, get over it. Pansy, we don't need the details."

Daphne nodded and smiled sweetly as she shook her finger at both Ginny and Pansy. "I agree with Hermione. Be adults, girls. Harry and Hermione are basically brother and sister, and you don't see her flinching like a baby when I bring up the fact that last night Harry spent more time with his face between my thighs than—"

* * *

Ron cringed at the sound of Hermione screaming from the other room. "So much bloody noise," he said in annoyance as he stood, leaning against an old oak bookshelf in Theo's study, purposely avoiding the shelves that he'd been told contained the really dangerous books.

"I don't even want to know what they're talking about in there," Harry confessed, shaking his head when Theo poured out drinks for Blaise and Draco, offering it then to Ron and Harry.

"They're probably talking about me," Theo admitted.

Draco scoffed. "They're screaming. It's likely about me."

"How are you and Hermione getting on?" Harry asked Theo as he took a seat on the end of the leather sofa.

"I'm not going to hurt her, Potter," Theo said, slightly defensively as he looked up from his small glass of brandy, swirling the liquid but not actually drinking it.

"I didn't say—"

Blaise laughed. "You Gryffindors don't know how to be subtle to save your lives. The two of you might as well have walked in here with your wands raised."

Harry sighed irritably. "She's my best friend. My sister. I have a right to worry about her and the bloke she's going to marry."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Granger can take care of herself."

Blaise stared at Draco curiously. He had, until then, been digging through an old trunk that sat in the corner containing random objects. When he had stepped out earlier to use the loo, Theo admitted to the others that he kept that trunk there just for when Blaise visited. " _He's a nosy bastard so I change out random objects anytime I know he's coming over. Keeps him occupied. Like a toddler."_

Sufficiently exhausted from snooping through Theo's trunk, Blaise sat down in a chair beside Draco. "You going to keep calling her 'Granger' when she gets married?"

"I'm certainly not going to call her 'Nott.' That's ridiculous. I call her 'Hermione' when I feel like it. Speaking of screaming and names," Draco said with a smirk and turned to look at Theo. "Have you shagged—?"

"Draco," Theo cautioned his friend.

"What? I'm sorry,  _precious_ ," Draco said looking over at Harry and Ron who were both cringing. "Do you two need to step outside while the big boys discuss grown up things?"

"Please, just . . . I don't want to hear what you and Hermione may or may not be doing," Harry said, speaking to Theo and doing his best to ignore Draco's obvious attempts at provocation.

Theo nodded, turning his attention to Ron. "How bad is this dinner thing on Sunday going to be?"

"At the Burrow? Fuck," Ron said with an exasperated sigh, followed by a laugh. "Do you like crowded places with too many sticky children and adults that can't keep their noses in their own business?"

Wincing at the thought, Theo grit out, "Not particularly."

"You'll be fine," Harry insisted. " _Blaise_  made it through."

"That's because Molly likes to look at my arse," Blaise said and winked at Ron who visibly gagged.

"Blaise also wasn't a Death Eater," Draco said, his long perfected scowl firmly in place as he stared across the small room at Harry.

The war was over, the good guys won, and miraculously the younger generations of Death Eaters had been found innocent of war crimes considering the threats they'd been under. Of course, it had taken multiple rounds of Legilimency and illegally-used Veritaserum to find that out, but still . . .  _innocent_.

Guilty or not, prejudices still existed, and while Draco could easily tell the rest of the world to fuck off on his own behalf, his in-laws and extended family didn't judge him for the mistakes he'd made as a child.

Theo on the other hand—who Draco had tried to save via fake life debts, threats, and blackmail—was not going to be so lucky. Draco had to deal with listening to his father-in-law ramble on about invisible creatures and conspiracy theories regarding the Weird Sisters and vampire cults. Theo, however, was a Marked Death Eater walking into the Weasley family home.

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. "Mum's going to go mental when she finds out you're living together. Expect a stern talking to. She'll likely use me and Pans as an example."

Harry sat staring at the ground curiously for a long moment before he looked up at Theo. "Are you opposed to people knowing about your family?"

Theo shrugged, suddenly suspicious. "I just assume people already do."

"I'll keep a look out for you, step in if things get out of hand," Harry said but didn't go further into detail.

Blaise, like a toddler, stomped his foot to get the attention of the others. "Can we get the brooms now? I was promised Quidditch."

Harry smirked. "Go grab Ginny or she'll be cross."

"Three on three? Slytherins versus Gryffindors?" Ron suggested. "Chaser, Seeker, Keeper?"

"Chaser,  _Beater_ , Keeper," Theo insisted. "I'd like a chance at winning, thanks."

Draco scowled at him. "Arsehole."

* * *

Hermione stood on the back porch near the gardens, watching the boys and Ginny fly above the fields below, twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands nervously. When Theo raised a bat to hit a Bludger that almost hit  _him_ instead, she recoiled and turned around.

"How anyone can smile that much that high up with nothing keeping you from certain death but a bit of wood is beyond me."

Daphne grinned happily. "At least he's smiling. That's what's important."

Hermione looked back up, watching as the wind moved through Theo's hair. He was laughing and saying something, pointing the Beater's bat at Draco, who gave him a rude hand gesture. Theo threw back his head and laughed harder.

"He is beautiful when he smiles," Hermione said softly. "Feels strange. I spent seven years at school cheering for Gryffindors during this stupid game, and right now, I kind of really want Draco, Blaise, and Theo to win."

Pansy smirked. "Me too."

Daphne stared at her friend who had her swollen feet propped up on Luna's lap, both pregnant witches balancing teacups and saucers on their bellies to Luna's quiet amusement. "Not very supportive of your husband, Pansy?"

Pansy laughed. "Not that. When Ron fails at things, he's much more likely to try and prove himself in  _other_ areas," she said and waggled her eyebrows.

* * *

"I'm going to teach you to fly," Theo said with determination as he sat on his side of the bed, drinking down the glass of water and Muggle painkillers that Hermione had brought up with her.

She snorted indignantly. "I know  _how_ to fly, thank you," she said, pretending to be more offended than she actually was. "I  _dislike_ flying."

He grinned at her in an unreserved way, as though they'd had this conversation a thousand times before, as though sharing this bed wasn't still a strange occurrence, a new thing where Hermione was testing the waters. "I'm going to teach you to like flying."

"Good luck with that," she said with a disbelieving laugh, rubbing lotion on her arms before crawling beneath the sheets. She adjusted the old, green t-shirt that she had stolen from Theo's dresser—at Daphne's suggestion—and did her best to pretend that he hadn't noticed.

"I've got the next hundred or so years to accomplish this goal; I'm perfectly content to bide my time."

Hermione smiled softly, watching as he stretched his arms and neck, likely working out knots and aches from playing Quidditch. "Have you finally stopped begging me to change my mind?"

Theo slipped beneath the sheets, rolling on his side to face her, the large gap in the middle of the bed remaining. "I've very quickly grown accustomed to waking up to your face. If I die, then I won't get to do that anymore, will I?" He reached across the space between them to touch her fingers as he did every night, wincing a bit in obvious pain.

Hermione shot up. "Are you okay? Is it—?"

He shook off her concerns. "Just a sore muscle. Haven't actually played a game in years."

She bit her lower lip and then took a deep breath. "Shirt off," she ordered him, ignoring the way he raised a brow at her. "I've got a salve that should help." She stood up from the bed, walking into the bathroom and returning with a small container filled with a clear paste.

Theo watched her walk and smiled, reaching his good arm behind his head and gripping at the t-shirt, yanking it forward and eventually off, revealing his bare torso that he noticed Hermione purposely avoiding staring at.

"You just want me for my body," he teased.

"Hush," she said, rolling her eyes and stepping close to him, positioning her legs between his thighs as he sat on the edge of the mattress. "You weren't on the team in school," she pointed out curiously as she rubbed a bit of the salve between her fingers and then against Theo's shoulder, working up a heat so that the muscle could relax enough to allow her to dig deeper.

"I thought you didn't like Quidditch?" he asked, eyes closed as he began to melt into her touch.

"Three of my best friends were players, and I went to every game. I knew the opposition. Mostly because I was terrified Slytherins would cheat, Gryffindors would lose their tempers, and everyone would end up in the hospital wing. Which happened quite often."

Theo moaned when she hit a particularly sore spot. "Oh gods, that feels good," he said and unconsciously raised a hand, trailing his fingers against her waist. She jumped slightly at his touch, and he pulled his hand away from her watching as she moved to sit beside him on the bed for a better angle. "You didn't happen to do this for Potter and Weasley after games did you?"

Hermione chuckled and then bit the corner edge of her bottom lip. "No. This is . . . all yours."

Theo looked at her with a heated stare, watching as she left one hand on his warm shoulder, the other anxiously tugging on the bottom of the green t-shirt he easily recognised as his own.

"All mine?  _What's_  all mine?" he asked in a whisper as he leant forward, smiling when he heard her breath catch. "The salve?"

He reached up, tugging her hand away from her lap and into his palm, lacing their fingers together and moving closer to her. "Your hands? Your touch?"

He placed his free hand against the mattress to sturdy him as he leant forward enough that she backed away, falling against the pillows behind her and gasping as he hovered over her, brushing his nose against her jaw. "All of you? Is it real yet, Hermione?"

She wasn't just keeping him from dying, he was certain of it.

No, she was making him feel alive again in ways he hadn't before thought possible. He placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the place just behind her jaw, beneath her ear.

Hermione moaned, fisting the black sheets. "Theo . . ."

"That was not our first kiss," he whispered, pulling away from her with a tender smile.

Hermione sighed, looking deliciously disappointed. "It never is."

"It will be soon," he promised her, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "When it's real."


	18. Chapter 18

**March 13th, 2004**

Theo stared at himself in the mirror, tugging at the Muggle clothes Hermione had set out for him. He wanted to make a good impression on her parents and was already preparing for the worst, so requesting that  _she_ choose his attire he had  _thought_ would be to his benefit. Now, as he looked at the simple collarless t-shirt and jeans, he couldn't help but wonder if she was playing a prank on him.

He was meeting  _her parents_  for Merlin's sake, and he looked like a . . . well, like a Muggle, but for some reason a Muggle dressed like  _this_ he assumed was a bad thing.

"Are you sure I look acceptable?" he asked, his tone hiding his nerves. He sighed and tugged at the plastic string and price tag attached to the neckline and broke it free. "I'm meeting your parents. This hardly feels appropriate. I imagine if Draco were here, he'd have me straddled on the floor, choking me as he attempted to loop a silk tie around my neck."

She smirked at him before she walked into the now shared bathroom, wearing jeans that accentuated her figure in a delightful way that made him even more concerned about a lack of wearing robes. Robes hid things.  _Important_ things. Things he didn't want Hermione's parents knowing about.

"Don't be silly," she said as she slipped a pair of dangly earrings on ."A tie would look ridiculous in that shirt."

He chuckled in agreement and turned back to his reflection. With his left hand, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix a few stray locks. When the dark shadow on his skin drew his attention, he sighed. "It's not long sleeved."

She offered him a sweet smile. "It'll be fine. I told you, I don't lie to my parents. I mean, obviously they'll hear the fake story we came up with that everyone outside of our small circle of friends will hear, but nothing else. They're friends with the Weasleys and with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey, so if I lie to them about things in the Wizarding world, they'll just find out from others and then we'll have a whole new set of problems to deal with."

He raised a brow. "They're friends with the mediwitch from Hogwarts?"

Her posture stiffened very briefly, and she visibly forced herself to relax it. "You'll hear it eventually. So before Harry, Ron, and I went on the run during that last year of the war, I was worried the Death Eaters would attack my parents."

"You were right to," he said, swallowing down memories of old Death Eater meetings just after taking the Dark Mark when the high priority was capturing Potter by  _any_ means necessary.

She frowned, looking incredibly tense. "I know, Draco . . . Draco told me what the plans had been for . . . Anyway, I . . . I altered their memories, removed me completely from their minds, and sent them to Australia under false identities."

His eyes widened dramatically. "You did what? Merlin, Hermione, I knew you were brilliant, but you  _altered_ their  _memories_?"

There had been rumours of her brilliance, of course. Anytime she out-brewed anyone in Slytherin, Snape wouldn't let their House hear the end of it for weeks. There had been that story that went around at the end of second year about Harry Potter killing a monster and that  _she'd_ been the reason he'd even discovered it. Though no one could confirm or deny it, she'd been given credit for Potter's success in the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year as well.

_But memory alteration at seventeen?_

"How did you get them back?"

She sighed, her eyes looking far older than her twenty-five years. "A lot of work and even more help. They met with Madam Pomfrey for regular checkups for a while."

"And they're okay?" he asked her out of curiosity and watched as she briefly flinched. Gods, the girl had a thousand indicators that she was lying and hiding something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what. Her parents were a sore subject, that much was obvious.

"Yes. Of course," she said stiffly. "Why wouldn't they be?"

He held up his hands in surrender at her tone, turning back to his reflection and glaring at the Dark Mark. "Okay, so . . . short sleeves. Will they know?"

"They'll ask. We'll explain."

"Will they throw me out?"

"No. My parents love me and they'll love you. Just don't kiss my mother's hand. And none of that weird head bowing thing you purebloods do."

He rolled his eyes. "It's a sign of respect."

"If you do it," she cautioned, "my father will make fun of you."

* * *

They Apparated a short distance away from her childhood home and then made the casual walk through suburban bliss. Theo made a note of the style of homes and the cars along the streets. Muggle things were often confusing but, like new models of brooms, even young wizards had a fascination with Muggle transportation. When his eyes fell on a shiny silver one that drove past and he nearly tripped over his feet when he turned to stare at it go, Hermione laughed.

"If you want, I can teach you how to drive one."

Theo nodded, said, "Maybe," and tried not to look impressed with her.

When they arrived at the house, and Hermione knocked, Theo adjusted the stupid t-shirt and stood tall.

A man opened the door and smiled down at Hermione brightly.

Theo noted that she looked a great deal like her father with the exception of hair texture and colour. The man had  _dark_ brown, not the mix of chocolate, cinnamon, coffee, and honey like Hermione's. Theo could see flecks of grey and remembered what little he'd learnt of Muggles growing up regarding the ageing process. They lived shorter lives, that much he knew, but because of the differences, he couldn't really get a tell on the man's actual age.

Hermione's father hugged her tightly and then turned his brown eyes on Theo who stood firm. He had knelt in the presence of pure evil before and was not about to be intimidated by a Muggle—future father-in-law or not.

He took the man's hand when it was held out to him. "Sir, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Hermione says such fine things about her parents," he said, using words that would imply he and Hermione had been together for quite some time.

"Richard, please," the Muggle said. "We haven't heard much about  _you,_ I'm afraid."

"You embarrassed of me, love?" Theo asked teasingly, turning his focus on Hermione, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Leave the poor boy alone, dear." A tiny wisp of a woman approached them, jokingly pushing aside her husband. "Or should you get your silly little 'hurt her and I'll kill you' speech out of the way?"

Richard turned, looked at Theo and raised a questioning brow. "Is it needed?"

Theo grinned when the door was opened and he was welcomed into the house. "Her friends have already made the point, but I wouldn't deny a man his given rights to defend his only daughter."

Richard closed the door behind them all, and Hermione dislodged the purse from her shoulder, reaching in it to pull out the gift of chocolates that Theo insisted they bring.

He turned to greet Hermione's mother, taking her small hand between both of his. "Ma'am, it's lovely to meet you. Here is where I'm  _supposed_ to say I see where Hermione gets her beauty from, but I have a feeling you're far too smart to fall for my flattery."

The woman snorted, and Theo could tell immediately where Hermione got her personality. " _Fall_  for it? Unlikely. I won't  _oppose_ to it, though."

"In that case," he said with a smile, "your daughter insisted that I  _not_ do this." He brought the woman's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He felt smug when he saw her blush a little even though he could feel Hermione's eyes rolling from behind him.

"Call me Helen," the woman said sweetly as Theo released her hand. "I like him," she whispered to Hermione, snatching up the box of chocolates from her.

"Come have a beer and let me get to know you, Theo," Richard invited, handing a cold glass bottle out and clapping him on the shoulder.

Theo glanced down at the bottle and carefully turned a look to Hermione who was subtly shaking her head. He took her silent confirmation that the drink wouldn't mix well with the potions and other herbs and pills she had him on. He did not want to appear rude, so he accepted the beverage and made a mental note to pretend to drink it and dump it out in a convenient location at random intervals so as to not rouse suspicion.

"Let the women chat and yell at us when the food is ready," Richard said with a smile as he led Theo to the back door while Hermione followed her mother into a spacious kitchen where Helen was already chopping vegetables and throwing them into a large bowl.

"Mum, why don't you sit down and let me finish this," Hermione said, reaching for the knife.

Helen pulled away from her daughter. "Don't be silly dear, you and your young man are our guests."

"Mum, really I'm just trying to—"

"Hermione," Helen said, her voice clipped.

Theo followed Richard outside and sat down on a metal chair around a patio table that had a terracotta herb planter as a centrepiece; he could smell the mint.

"So, Hermione says the two of you went to school together, but that you were only recently introduced by a friend?" Richard asked, kicking his feet up on a second chair,

Theo mimicked the movement to appear relaxed even though he was far from it. His gaze was flickering to a large metal box on wheels with a white tank that read "gas" beneath it, and another metal box on wheels that sank lower to the ground with a black bag hanging off the back with what looked to be a handlebar. Muggle things. He had so many questions.

"Yes," he finally answered. "My best friend, Draco, introduced us officially."

Richard's jaw visibly ticked. "He's the one who was mean to my girl when she was little."

Theo sighed.  _Here it comes_ , he thought and then nodded. "That would be Draco."

"Your  _best friend_?"

"Our families were very close growing up." He hoped that was a good enough reason to explain why he had put up with Draco's behaviour over the years. The truth was, he loved his friends despite their flaws, and they each had plenty. But Slytherins were loyal. Especially after what they'd all gone through growing up.

"I seem to remember Hermione telling me that the boy's father was imprisoned after your war."

Theo did his best not to recoil at the words, took a breath, and pretended to sip his beer. "He was."

Richard took a glance at Theo's arm. "Interesting tattoo."

There was a silent understanding between them as they made eye contact.

Theo purposely didn't try to hide his shame the way he did when he was recognised in his  _own_ world. People who knew what he was—what he had been—would often divert their path to avoid him. Some would stop and shout. The more daring would even spit. Theo usually sneered in response. What would an apologetic glance to strangers do to fix the situation? He didn't need or want their forgiveness.

 _These_ people though? Muggles who'd had their memories ripped from their skulls and then shoved back in a year later only to find out that their only child had been the target of psychopaths because she'd had the unfortunate circumstance of befriending Harry Potter as a child. Even if she hadn't, she would have been hunted simply for being born. These people's forgiveness he sought out eagerly. Would likely beg for it if they had the thought to insist for such a gesture.

"Folly of youth," Theo finally replied mournfully, scratching at the Dark Mark with a bitter look. "You jump right to the point, don't you, Richard?" He liked men that didn't bullshit. It wasted time. Time was something Theo had come to respect since  _his_ began running out.

"I only have the one daughter who showed up for dinner last week and said she was getting married to a man we'd never heard of," Richard said and then took a sip from his beer. "A man introduced to her by the boy who made her cry every time she came home to tell us about what happened at school."

Theo noted that Richard's eyes narrowed a fraction. There was real anger there, and Theo couldn't blame him. The closer he got to Hermione the more irritable he was when reminded of the way she'd been treated in school.

"A man who happens to have a tattoo that I know a little too much about, for being a Muggle."

"Would it seem cowardly to admit that it wasn't done by choice?" Theo asked.

"Is that an honest answer?"

"Yes."

"Cowards deny the hard truths about themselves," Richard said after a moment of contemplation. "Brave men face them, accept them."

"You would have been a Gryffindor, I think."

"Hermione says that," he said with a proud grin, clearly taking the statement as the greatest of compliments. Theo wondered if he'd have been thrown out of the house if he'd suggested that either of Hermione's parents could have ended up in Slytherin. "So, what are your intentions with my daughter, Theo?"

"I intend to marry her, sir. Make her happy. Keep her safe."

Richard laughed. "Don't let her hear that last part."

"I intend to keep  _myself_ safe as well, sir," Theo said with a smirk.

"And tell me, do you love her?"

He did his best not to pale at the question. They were  _supposed_ to be in love. Had supposedly been engaged since before New Year and had dated for months before that. Theo was  _supposed_ to love her, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. It didn't feel fair to say them when he didn't know for sure. And to not say them first to Hermione.

"I . . . She's saving my life," he said honestly.

Richard smiled, accepting the answer. "Most good women do."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they all sat around the outdoor table. The pot of mint had been moved aside, replaced with a large salad bowl and a platter of baked fish and steamed vegetables. Theo sighed in relief at the sight, glad that he wouldn't be sick come morning because he wasn't about to refuse to eat food that had been prepared just for him.  _Just_ for him, he suspected, wondering if Hermione had contacted her parents ahead of time and told them that he wasn't to be eating rich and heavy foods.

"Now, tell us, Theo," Helen addressed him with a smile, "what is it that you do?"

"I'm a Curse-Breaker."

"Isn't that what Molly and Arthur's oldest boy does?" she asked Hermione.

"Bill Weasley?" Theo raised a brow. "Yes, but he specifically works for Gringotts. I did my Apprenticeship in Egypt where he'd previously worked. Most Curse-Breakers are used to disarm old tombs, crypts, some historical sites to either bring back gold, treasure, or sacred objects for the goblins. I occasionally do some freelance work for them when they feel like paying my rates, but I prefer less dangerous work. I generally hire myself out to families and businesses, setting up security wards and things like that."

"That must pay well," Helen said, her eyes flickering to the giant glittering ring on Hermione's hand.

"Family heirloom," Hermione said in response to her mother's silent question, throwing a dirty look at Theo that he took for teasing. "Most of the old pureblood families are inherently wealthy. It's a shock that many of them still bother to work."

"I'd get bored," Theo admitted. "I have friends who live off of the wealth of their parents, or great-great-grandparents as it sometimes is. They're bothersome and annoying, and all they do is ask me about  _my_ job.".

"Theo was almost top of our class," Hermione said, a hint of pride in her voice as she changed the subject.

"Had I gone back for that last year, I would have given you a run for your Galleons."

She snorted into her glass. "I'm hardly afraid of you."

"I could have taken Muggle Studies and Divination and earned more N.E.W.T.s than you."

She rolled her eyes, licked her lips, and set the glass down on the table as though she were preparing for a fight. If she were anything like Pansy, he suspected she would have removed her earrings.

"N.E.W.T.s in pointless subjects, I'll be sure to pick up a packet of gold stars just for you," Hermione said sarcastically, and the two shared a teasing grin that Richard chuckled at.

Helen, on the other hand, was beaming with absolute joy.

It made Theo slightly uncomfortable.

Another thing that made Theo slightly uncomfortable was the proverbial hippogriff in the room.

He noticed the way the family moved around one another. Helen had her own gravitational pull, and Hermione hovered nervously, sometimes so much so that her hands shook. Richard did the same thing but had a bit of reservation to his movements, as though he were a trained animal that knew better than to step out of line because he'd been reprimanded for it before.

When Hermione attempted to do the same only to earn a stern glare from her mother, she'd turn her attention to Theo instead, offering to refill his glass, clear his plate, and even just put a comforting hand on his arm.

He wondered if she were trying to comfort herself but didn't realise it yet.

Putting the pieces together wasn't difficult. The Grangers were not subtle people in the slightest. Gryffindors indeed, all three of them. Hermione, for whatever issues she was having with her mother, had turned them onto Theo, and he was reaping the benefits.

He didn't complain. He didn't even think he was insulted by it.

He'd spent the first eleven years of his life dealing with an abusive Death Eater for a father, who no longer had a Dark Lord to pay homage to, and a mother who hovered and doted affection on him like one of her precious crups. That, of course, had all ended the first Christmas home from Hogwarts which was spent cowering in fear of his drunken father as he quite literally beat his mother to death.

He had returned to Hogwarts two weeks later after a swift funeral where Narcissa Malfoy had been caught scolding his father over the "accidental" death of his wife—in public, no less. Theo had spent the majority of holidays home from school with the Malfoys after that. Though each return to Hogwarts was a reminder of the care that had been lost. Every time he crawled into a carriage beside his friends who stared ahead at the nothingness in front of them, Theo instead saw Thestrals.

He would accept Hermione's care and affection, even if it wasn't originally intended for him. Who was he to deny a glass of water when he was parched, even if it had been offered to someone else before him?

"Hermione says you're dentists? What does that entail?" he asked eventually after Helen literally smacked Hermione on the back of the hand when she tried to clear her plate for her.

Hermione nervously chewed her nails as her mother spoke of a variety of things that occurred in a dental practice. Theo was mildly intrigued until both she and Richard went into great detail describing the process of something called a root canal. He did his best to hide his mild horror and made a plan to ask Hermione later if her parents were just fucking with him for a laugh.

"Yesterday I performed three of them," Helen said smugly.

Hermione looked up. " _Three_? Those take—Mum, should you be . . ." She let out a loud sigh of frustration, clenching her fists. "Nevermind."

Ignoring her daughter's outburst, Helen changed the subject. "I've opted to forgo cleaning the house in exchange for working. It's much more fulfilling. Richard's offered to hire someone for me."

"You're hiring a maid?" Hermione raised a brow. "You shouldn't waste your money like that."

" _I_  don't want to do the laundry," Richard joked.

"Maybe . . . Maybe Theo and I could look into getting you a house-elf."

Had he not suspected something was up before that moment, Theo would have had no doubts that Hermione was hiding something now. He shifted in his chair and gaped at her, eyes wide—not even trying to hide his shock at her words. To do so would have implied that he was stupid enough not to know the woman, and she knew that he wasn't stupid. "What?"

Hermione winced, clearly realising her obvious mistake.

Richard waved off the suggestion. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm going to get pudding," Helen said coolly as she stood from the table.

She was quickly joined by her husband who said a quiet, "I'll help you," leaving Hermione and Theo alone in the garden.

"Are you all right?" Theo asked, pulling Hermione's hand from her mouth, noticing immediately that she'd chewed her nail down to the bed and would likely start bleeding if she didn't stop. "Have I said something wrong? Do they not like me?" he prompted, hoping to ease her worries by redirecting them.

It seemed to do the trick, and she turned and smiled at him affectionately, her expression filled with a strange appreciation. She touched his cheek, and he turned his face into her palm, kissing her hand.

"You've been wonderful. I'm just . . . It's nothing you need to worry about."


	19. Chapter 19

**March 13th, 2004**

After pudding, Theo insisted that he clear away the plates. Helen and Richard initially put up a fuss, but Theo spouted some non-existent pureblood custom that would have made him seem greatly offended if they objected to his offer. Hermione followed him into the kitchen, and he stared awkwardly at the sink.

"Now what?" he asked as he began fiddling with knobs.

She laughed and drew her wand to cast a couple of household Cleaning Charms that she said she'd learnt from Molly Weasley. He took the brief moment away from her parents to steal a kiss to her cheek, figuring that even if Richard or Helen walked in, it would seem like something any engaged couple would do.

They rejoined the Grangers a few minutes later when the dishes had finished washing themselves. Hermione and her mother sat down in the living room, and Richard took Theo by the shoulder, directing him to the garage under the guise of showing him the inside of a car, which Theo had never before seen.

"I was worried, I have to admit, about meeting you," Richard said, leaning against the red car with his arms crossed over his chest. He suddenly looked like he had aged just in the way he was relaxing against the vehicle—as though he'd been forcing himself to hold a stiff pose for hours and was finally given reprieve. "Hermione . . . She keeps so much of her life in your world to herself, and I can't help but worry that it's because something new and horrible is happening to her, and she's trying to protect us from it all. Again."

Theo frowned. "I hope I've eased some of your concerns."

"You'll take care of her," Richard said, nodding along with each word as he spoke. "You'll be there for her. I can see it."

"Sir?"

"It's not easy on her, I know that." The man sighed loudly, rubbing his hands down his face. "It's not easy to watch someone you love . . . die and not be able to do a thing to stop it. But we've told her. Helen has told us  _both_ , that she wants a normal life. She just wants to be happy and not fussed over. It's . . . God, it took me far too long to come to terms with it, and I'm certain I still haven't. But it's what she wants. Hermione, though . . . I worry that she's not handling it. She's trying to fight something that can't be fought."

Theo forced himself to hold his expression firm—one that looked perhaps like understanding, maybe sympathy. Not pity.  _Never pity_. Inside, he was letting all the pieces slide and click into place while simultaneously wondering how Hermione had the ability to even  _move_ throughout the day.

How she was strong enough to deal with this  _and_ her friends  _and_ her job  _and_ somehow still manage to give a fuck about  _him_?

Gryffindors, Theo was starting to realise, were amazing creatures that were far too often underestimated.

"Sometimes there isn't an enemy," he said quietly.

Richard nodded. "Wish like hell that there was."

"Is there anything we can do for you both? Money isn't something that I have to worry about and I would very much like to help in any way that I can. Hermione might have jumped to an extreme there with the elves, she's clearly stressed, but . . . I have a household full of them, and they would be happy to make themselves available to you both."

Richard smiled at the gesture but shook his head. "Just take care of my daughter, Theo. Be good to her and . . . and don't let her be broken by this."

Theo thought about his own mother and the day he saw Thestrals for the first time. He had kept it together all throughout the return to Hogwarts feast, but the second he stepped foot over the threshold of the Slytherin Common room, he'd shattered into pieces. He'd been eleven-years-old and had seen death. Seen his mother die.

Blaise had somehow managed to swipe a bottle of firewhisky from a couple of sixth years, and all of his friends had a drink in honour of Theo's mother. Daphne and Pansy hugged him tightly when he cried. Then when everyone had gone to bed and he retired to the room he shared with the other Slytherin boys in his year, it was Draco who sat beside him on the edge of his bed, hand placed on his shoulder in silent comfort. The simple gesture had let him know that he wasn't alone. He broke, but somehow his friends patched him back together.

He could do that for Hermione.

"I swear it on my life."

* * *

When Hermione offered to stay and help clean up around the house after another hour of visiting, Helen insisted that Theo take her home immediately and only return her if she was in the mood to make wedding plans. Hermione had huffed in frustration, and Theo had promised he would do just that and then invited the Grangers over for dinner any night of their choosing.

He shook Richard's hand and accepted the hug that Helen bestowed upon him before both of Hermione's parents turned and gave their daughter love and attention and whispered words of approval over her choice of husband. Theo pretended not to hear them but silently preened over their endorsement.

They left the house and began walking toward the Apparition point, Hermione's steps a bit faster than normal. Theo could tell she was trying to escape. Trying to make a break for it. He kept pace with her and remained silent, watching with curiosity as her fists clenched, her shoulders stiffened, and she took in slow and deliberate breaths.

When they arrived at the Apparition point, she reached for her wand, but Theo stilled her hand.

"You're not in a place emotionally to Apparate, and I won't have you splinching yourself," he insisted, ignoring the look of shock and shame on her face at being found out. He took hold of his wand in one hand and her wrist in the other and Side-Alonged them back home.

When they arrived in the gardens of Nott Manor, it was raining.

Theo didn't make a move to shield either of them from the storm.

The crushing feel of Apparition had sucked the breath that Hermione had been holding for hours and it had been the final straw that broke her. She wrapped her arms across her chest and took in deep gulps of air trying to control herself.

Theo looked on in horror. It was like watching a crystal vase try to will itself not to shatter when thrown at a stone wall. She was practically vibrating in the effort to cling to what little strength she had left.

 _Gods,_  Theo thought as he stared at her,  _Potter and Weasley would have been dead if not for this woman_. It had always been obvious that she carried them through school, and it had been implied that she'd done the same through the war. Strong. Independent. Near unbreakable. He couldn't let her break. He'd promised her father not an hour earlier. If she did break, which was likely, he promised himself that he'd try to put her back together again.

He approached her from behind and turned her body to face him before pulling her into his arms. The warmth of his embrace, even with rain pouring down in sheets against them, cracked through her resolve, and she let out a loud sob against his chest that was followed by an avalanche of tears and gasping breaths.

He waited for the crying to let up before he said a single word, and when he finally did, he didn't placate her with apologies for the situation or words of comfort that wouldn't actually do a bit of good.

It's  _wasn't_ okay. She  _wasn't_ going to be just fine. Things  _didn't_ happen for a reason.

He kissed her forehead and said in a clear voice, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," and somehow, that made her sag against him in relief.

Eventually, they went inside the manor, ignoring Pixy when she fussed over the fact that they were both soaking wet and freezing—"Crazy Master . . . catching himself and Mistress a cold!"

Theo led Hermione up the stairs to their room, perching her on the bed where he knelt to remove her shoes and socks before slipping into the bathroom to fill the large tub with hot water. He added a few drops of lavender oil that he'd found among some of her things.

After wiping a few remaining tears from her face, he directed her to the tub, closing the door behind him as he left her with her privacy. He did, however, sit outside the door and talked to her nearly the entire time to make sure she knew that she wasn't alone—that he hadn't abandoned her to be with her grief and tears.

"They didn't say anything about us living together," he commented thoughtfully. "I have to admit, I was expecting a bit of an argument there."

"My parents lived together for two years before they got married," Hermione said, her voice echoing in the bathroom behind the door that separated them. "My mother's family was very conservative and threw a legendary fit that went down in family history. My parents pride themselves on not being hypocrites. I was never forbidden from doing anything they might have done at the same age," she told him, and he thought he could hear the smile in her voice again. "They would, instead, offer me advice about situations and then caution me appropriately."

"Strange," he said.

"What's that?"

"Did your parents  _also_ break out of a bank by riding on a dragon when they were seventeen?"

Hermione laughed. "To be fair, they didn't exactly  _forbid_ me from doing that. And I was  _eight_ een"

He smirked, glad to hear the happiness back in her voice. "My mistake."

* * *

Forty minutes later when she finally emerged wearing a fluffy cotton robe, her mass of curls pulled back into a braid, she found Theo already in his pyjamas, lying on the bed with a silver platter filling the space in the middle of the mattress. On the platter was a silver-rimmed plate with a single, though large, serving of tiramisu.

"How'd you get that?" she asked curiously, clearly aware that Theo wouldn't have been able to make it himself since he'd spent the majority of her bath sitting at the door, talking to her.

"Illegally," he said with a teasing grin. "Come sit."

When she sat down on her side, he removed the plate and set the silver platter on the floor, scooting forward, spoon in hand.

The first bite he fed her had her eyes rolling in the back of her head. They took turns eating away at the pudding, occasionally talking about random wedding ideas, plans for the following week, and wildly hilarious suggestions of what Draco and Luna would likely name their child.

"Puppis," she said whilst laughing.

"That's terrible. Almost as bad as Leo."

"Not nearly as awful as Scorpius. What about Fornax?"

"Or Reticulum," he said with a laugh as she cringed.

"Camelopardalis."

"Is that  _really_ a constellation?" he asked her with a raised brow.

She nodded, licking tiramisu off of their shared spoon before handing it to him for his turn. "The Giraffe constellation. You don't remember this from Astronomy?"

He shook his head. "One of few classes I didn't pay much attention to. My best friend was a member of the Black family. We heard enough 'star talk' in the common room. Did you know, for instance, that Draco means dragon?" he said sarcastically. "Because we were told a great many times."

She giggled, feeling her face warm at the way Theo smiled when she laughed.

He rubbed a bit of cocoa powder on the tip of her nose and then leant forward to kiss it off.

Her tongue darted out to lap at her bottom lip, teeth gently tugging on it as she stared at him.

He dragged his thumb through the remaining cocoa on the plate and then reached up, brushing the dust against her lips. Those lips parted, and she took a sharp breath in understanding and anticipation.

Theo leant forward, pressing his lips softly against hers—directly, and not at the corners as he'd done before during their repeated "not first kisses."

He felt her melt into him, and he took that as a good sign, bringing a hand up to gently cup her jaw, letting his tongue dart out to lick the cocoa off of her lips before delving slowly into her mouth and tasting the moan that escaped her. It was so much sweeter than the pudding they'd just shared. When her tongue actively sought out and touched his, he groaned and fought the urge to tug at the belt securing her bathrobe.

She placed the palm of one hand on his chest, and he smiled against her, pressing forward until she leant back against the pillows behind her, threading the fingers of her other hand through his hair and resting them at the nape of his neck.

He ignored the empty plate that had been sitting between them, even as it dug into his hip, the accompanying spoon lost somewhere in the many folds of black sheets. He put a hand on her waist and pulled her against him, aligning their bodies as he deepened the kiss, relishing each moan and mewl and whimpering noise she made. She made such lovely little noises.

 _Two bodies ruined by a single sweetness,_  Theo thought to himself, wondering if he should say the words aloud, but he was physically unable to pull away from her.  _Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity_.

She was innocence and fire. Sweetness and warmth. She tasted like sugar and coffee, smelled like lavender and rain, and her lips were softer than the bed sheets he'd often catch her rolling around in with a greedy smile when she didn't know he was looking.

She was sin and salvation.

She was Death's pardon.

He nibbled on her bottom lip and the sigh she let out in response was a breath of life.

He kissed her once more, softly, barely a brush of their lips before he pulled away and smiled down at her, a smile that widened when she returned the expression, no hint of anxiety or regret in her eyes.

"Was that not our first kiss either?" she asked in a quiet, timid voice.

He kissed her again, first on her lips and then on her jaw and once more on the place just below her ear. "What do you think?"

"So . . . it's real?"

He looked down into her eyes once more, smiled, and confessed, "This is  _so very_ real."


	20. Chapter 20

**March 14th, 2004**

Sundays, Hermione decided, were created for the exclusive purpose of kissing Theo.

A part of her felt slightly terrible that the rest of the world was inconvenienced with an extra day between Saturday and Monday, likely spent compensating for their inability to use the day for its  _intended_ purpose.

She woke wrapped in strong arms instead of across the mattress on the other side of the bed. Hermione breathed a strange sigh of relief at the feeling of a warm body behind her, at the soft puffs of breath on her neck that somehow reminded her that she too, was still breathing. Lately, it felt as if she desperately needed that reminder. She relished Theo's warm embrace and the heavy feel of his arms around her while he slept on peacefully, silencing that logical voice in the back of her head that was trying to tell her that a week ago she had been panicking over the prospect of marrying this man.

Very carefully, she slipped out of his arms to reach for her wand that sat on the bedside table so that she could cast a Breath Freshening Charm on her mouth. When she returned to his embrace, she actually went to the effort of lifting and repositioning his arms so that they fell around her in what appeared like a natural state. The moment she finally settled against him, Theo nuzzled his nose against the back of her ear and kissed her lobe until she shivered in his embrace.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"It is."

"Do you want to repeat that helpful little charm on me, or should I do it myself?" When she felt her face heat up, embarrassed at being caught, he chuckled. "Me then?" He turned over, reaching for his wand to cast the charm before very quickly turning her body over and kissing her in a way that felt both excitingly new and already comfortingly familiar.

Hermione moaned softly into Theo's mouth and brought her hands up, cupping his jaw and running the pads of her thumbs back and forth over the small bit of stubble there. When her fingers traced their way along his jawline and came to rest at the back of his head, softly playing with the short hair on his neck, he groaned and slipped his tongue into her mouth. She actively had to stop herself from mewling.

He pressed his body against hers as he ran a firm hand up her pyjama covered thigh to rest gently at her hip. She panicked slightly when she felt his morning erection pressing into her abdomen but relaxed when she realised that he wasn't doing anything to relieve the obvious pressure, nor did he appear to be embarrassed when it was obvious she could feel him against her.

Then again, Theo Nott didn't strike her as the type of man to be easily embarrassed.

After trailing a series of soft kisses along her jaw and breathing in deep at the hollow of her throat, Theo sighed. "I need to go and take my pills and potions," he said in a regretful voice before kissing her once more and then leaving the bed.

"I'll ask Pixy to bring breakfast up here," Hermione called after him.

When he returned, she lazily ran her fingers through his hair until the painkillers kicked in, ridding him of the headache that came on far too fast for either of their likings. Pixy dropped off bowls of fruit and vanished away immediately after, giggling to herself. They spent an entire hour eating, throwing grapes into each other's mouths from across the bed and laughing when Hermione's aim was far off. Theo's reflexes, however, kept food off of the floor as he quickly reached out to catch every stray grape.

"You should have been a Seeker," she told him.

"And deflate poor Draco's fragile ego?"

He fed her slices of sticky kiwi and then kissed the juice from her lips until she was completely melted under him, forgetting that this was still so very new and unexpected even though it felt relaxed and natural. She fed him bits of strawberries and felt him nibble the tips of her fingers after each bite until her toes started curling.

When fatigue caused by the curse hit him, Hermione told him to rest and used it as an excuse to tuck her head between his chest and shoulder, draping an arm over his waist until he fell back asleep.

While Theo slept, utterly exhausted, beside her for three full hours without even moving aside from breathing, Hermione dug out the files that Harry had been able to procure for her. She ignored the pictures of the bodies, instead reaching for the notes regarding witness interviews and postmortem Healer examinations.

 _Marcus Flint_. His mother gave a statement saying that he'd been in pain, and potions hadn't been helping him. She had assumed it was something to do with Quidditch injuries, but he was drunk so often that she could never get a proper answer out of him anytime she asked. When he'd fallen from his broom, spectators said that he'd done nothing to prevent his eventual death. Instead, he had held his arms out, almost as though embracing it with relief.

 _Cassius Warrington_. Suspected of being poisoned. The Healers noted that his body had suffered rapid weight loss prior to his death and severe damage to his oesophagus, which is what had led them to believe someone had poisoned him. Something deadly that would have taken months to eventually kill him simply by forcing him to starve to death.

 _Graham Montague_. His flatmate had been interviewed by Tonks, and she'd written down a series of quotes from the man. Montague had been acting strangely. Sleeping in a lot. Complaining of aches and pains. Eventually, he said that his vision started blurring. He'd have rotten mood swings. And then one day, the roommate came home in the middle of August to find him dead in the bathroom, deep, self-inflicted scratch marks all over his body.

 _Gregory Goyle_.

Hermione sighed as she looked at the clipping from the  _Daily Prophet_  in the file. She'd known how Greg died. Or at least, the eventual cause of it.

His friends hadn't seen him in over six months when he showed up at the Leaky Cauldron in the middle of December, talking nonsense. Witnesses claimed he was spouting off about the Dark Lord, clearly hallucinating and sweating bullets. When a Good Samaritan tried to calm him down, he snapped and sent an Entrail-Expelling Curse at them that, thankfully, missed. "Suicide by Aurors," the papers called it. He'd fought back in such a violent way that they had no choice. "He was already mental," most had said.

Daphne, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy had kept quiet about the death of their friend.

Hermione looked at her sleeping Theo, wondering when exactly, over this short period of time had she started thinking of him as hers. Hers to save. Hers to look after. Hers to protect. Protect from all of this. She shoved away the files, crawled back in bed and snuggled against his side before falling back asleep.

* * *

She woke in the middle of the day and turned to spot Theo's side of the bed empty.

The bathroom door was closed, and she worried that something had happened—that he'd perhaps gotten sick again and was trying to hide it from her. Intermittently nervous since this whole mess began, Hermione slipped out of bed and made her way to the bathroom door, listening. There was nothing. More to the point, there was an absence of sound.

 _Silencing Charm_.

She chewed her bottom lip, curiosity slowly getting the better of her. Ron and Harry and Hogwarts had ruined her rule-abiding ways, and things like the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map had made her question just how much she actually respected people's privacy. It was not enough to ignore the voice in the back of her head that told her to leave people to their business. She reached a hand out and quiet quietly turned the doorknob.

Steam billowed out of the bathroom in waves, and Hermione glanced through the density of it that obscured the vision of Theo behind frosted glass shower doors. She could hear the water pounding down against tile walls, ceramic floors, and wet skin. She couldn't see clearly, but the outline of him was enough to bring a flush to her cheeks. It really was unfair just how beautiful he was.

"Ungh."

Her eyes widened at the sound, and her lips parted in shock as realisation came over her. Embarrassed and ashamed for intruding, Hermione slowly began closing the door when Theo hissed out her name through his teeth, and she stifled a gasp.

Returning to the bed with her hand pressed against her chest, Hermione regulated her breathing and let the bit of adrenaline ease out of her. She nervously licked her lips as Theo's moan echoed in her head. Her. He was thinking of  _her_. Daphne's confession that Theo had been enamoured with her at Hogwarts came to the forefront of her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if, even back then, he did  _that_ while thinking of  _her_.

The thought that he was doing it  _now_ had her unconsciously rubbing her thighs together. The week had been exceptionally stressful and, aside from a few heated moments with Theo, she had essentially neglected to even consider easing the tension herself. But now . . .

She leant back against Theo's pillows on his side of the bed, letting his scent wash over her like Amortentia as her hand slipped down beneath the waistband of her pyjamas. She closed her eyes thinking of him nibbling at her fingers as she slipped slices of strawberries past his lips. Thinking of him kissing, licking away kiwi juice from her mouth. Thinking of him using those teeth, those lips, that tongue for  _other_ things.

Hermione bent her knees and softly moaned as she slipped two fingers inside, crooking them back and firmly hitting a sweet spot just . . .  _just there_. She willed herself to forget that she'd only been with Theo for one week and thinking of him like this might be inappropriate, reminding herself that she'd known the few Muggles she'd slept with for nearly as long before actually having  _sex_ with them.

The fresh memory of kissing Theo in the morning with his hardness pressed against her had her toes pushing into the mattress, her calves tightening, and her back arching as she felt herself flutter and then fly, the ball of tension dissipating almost instantly.

The bathroom door opened, and Hermione yanked her hand out of her pyjamas like a child that had been caught sneaking a biscuit before dinner. Her face, neck, and chest flushed and the warmth only increased when she looked over to see Theo standing there with a towel wrapped low around his hips, water still dripping down his bare chest. She whimpered at the sight and then pretended, for the sake of her dignity, that she hadn't made a sound.

Theo silently observed her, his eyes raking over her body as she lay on his side of the bed, breathing slightly heavy, skin deliciously pink. She looked guilty and shy, and he'd learnt very quickly that Hermione Granger was rarely shy unless he was whispering sweet—and sometimes not so sweet—nothings in her ear.

She was up to something.

Or perhaps,  _had been_  up to something.

"Hello, lovely," he said and reached out for her right hand the way he often did. When she offered him instead her left, he grinned.

 _Busted_.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, refusing to take his eyes off of hers as he kissed the fingers of her left hand. "You . . . sweet witch, look very beautiful today."

She smiled and relaxed and then, like a viper, he struck and snatched up her right hand.

Hermione's eyes widened, and her body stiffened as he kissed the tips of those fingers as well, breathing in deep through his nose.

She made a squeaking noise when Theo refused to break eye contact with her as he opened his mouth and pulled her index and middle finger between his lips, sucking them down past her knuckles. When he closed his eyes and groaned the same way he did when savouring a fine wine, Hermione let out a shaky breath, and whispered, "Fuck,"

"Naughty witch," Theo said as he released her fingers from his mouth and crawled up her body to kiss her hard and deep, letting her taste her own essence on his tongue.

"You're very forward," she said when he pulled away. "And far too smug."

He grinned, licking his bottom lip. "I hardly think you'll be running for the hills."

She raised a brow. "And what makes you think that?"

"Because I've learnt several things about Gryffindors this past week. One, they are loyal to a fault and honour their promises. Two, they're not in the least bit subtle about anything. And three, they're curious little cats. I think I have you very intrigued, Miss Granger."

She sighed in defeat.

He kissed her once more before getting up and making his way toward the large closet to get ready for dinner at the Burrow. He purposely didn't close the door behind him when he dropped his towel, giving her a lovely view of his arse.

Hermione threw herself back on the pillows, silently kicking herself for being so obvious.

 _Fucking Slytherins_.

She was going to save his life.

But he was going to be the death of  _her_.


	21. Chapter 21

**March 14th, 2004**

Dinner with the Grangers the night before had lulled Theo into a false sense of security.

Somehow, he had incorrectly assumed that meeting Muggles would be more difficult than dealing with Weasleys. He had been wrong. Merlin, he had been  _so very_ wrong.

He and Hermione should have known how the dinner would have turned out as they'd Apparated to the Burrow only to stumble directly into a six-year-old hidden security ward that was specific to the Dark Mark. Theo stumbled into the invisible wall and recoiled in pain, yanking his left arm away, burnt.

They waited for the Weasley patriarch, who looked incredibly guilty and apologetic as he approached to lower the wars and allow Theo—still clutching at his left arm—inside.

"So, so sorry, son," he said to Theo, who reacted in a bit of a shock at being addressed as "son" by a man he had never met and only recalled seeing a few times over the years, the most memorable being the final battle and at the detainment centre at the Ministry when the man had actually spoken up on behalf of the young Death Eaters.

" _Just boys," Arthur Weasley had insisted. "No older than any of my own!"_

Theo couldn't help but feel that, in that brief moment, this man standing before him had actually done more good for him than his own father ever had. "Not a problem, sir. I imagine there was a time when your security measures were of great aid to your family."

"I'll go and fetch some Burn Salve." Hermione smiled sweetly at him before making a dash toward the crooked house.

He looked up and saw Potter and Daphne exiting the house, passing by Hermione on their way to greet him. She didn't even  _attempt_ to be quiet or subtle when she angrily hissed, "Death Eater wards!" at Potter as she passed him as though they'd been of  _his_ construction.

"Are you okay?" Daphne asked as she approached Theo, grabbing his arm and pulling up the sleeve to look at the blisters surrounding the Dark Mark. "Shit," she said softly and looked back at Potter.

"I take it Draco's never made it over for Sunday dinner?" Theo asked with a slight smirk, trying to hide the pain.

Potter laughed uncomfortably, but it was better than the guilt-ridden expression of sympathy he had been wearing.

Theo walked toward the house with Potter—who insisted he be called Harry—and Daphne, nodding to Mr Weasley as the man stepped through the door, leaving the rest of them outside. Harry and Daphne sat down at a picnic table that had clearly been enlarged to seat the whole family and all of their guests.

When Hermione rushed out the front door with Burn Salve in hand, she made her way straight to Theo, purposely ignoring her best friend.

"Honestly, Hermione, how was I supposed to know about the wards?" Harry asked her.

She let out an indignant grunt as she sat down beside Theo, taking his arm in hand and gently pulling the sleeve up to reveal the burnt Dark Mark. Without blinking twice at it, Hermione took a dab of the salve in her hand and began softly rubbing it into his skin. "How's that?"

"Better," he said, not wanting to let on how good it actually felt; both the salve on the stinging burn as well as having her look at—and even touch—the blemish on his skin and soul without flinching.

There were a few cracks of Apparition, and Theo looked up to see two small families approaching, both he recognised almost immediately. Bill Weasley, a fellow Curse-Breaker that he'd worked with on a project or two over the years, and his wife and two young daughters. The other family was led by Remus Lupin, who Theo recognised as his third year Defence professor. He knew that the man now worked in the same department as Hermione and was, in fact, her boss. Lupin's wife was a familiar Auror that Theo remembered healing the cut on his head after the final battle. She was holding the hand of a green-haired little boy—presumably their son.

"Be right back," Hermione said as she put the lid back on the salve and then stood up, making her way quickly across the small field where she patted each of the children on the head. She made a gesturing movement with her hands to the witches, and then, as the wives stepped away, she began dramatically waving her arms. Despite the distance, Theo could see the ends of her hair sparking like little pops of lightning flashes.

"Well, this wedding really is happening isn't it?" Harry sighed. "No offence," he said, looking at Theo. "I don't want you dead or anything, just . . . she's  _Hermione_."

"Why do say the wedding really is happening? Why now?"

"Because she's yelled at me, and now she looks to be shouting at Bill and Remus.  _They're_ the ones who originally set up the anti-Death Eater wards around the Burrow back after we were all attacked during Bill and Fleur's wedding."

Theo remembered being in a meeting where the attack had been arranged. The younger Death Eaters hadn't been allowed to go. The Dark Lord had worried that the younger boys would be captured and end up revealing information, so he sent seasoned Death Eaters in their place to take down the Order.

"I'm fine," Theo said tightly, wondering if his father had killed anyone here. "She shouldn't have to make a fuss."

"You don't get it," Harry said with a chuckle. "She's pretty much staking her claim on you right now. Gryffindors. We're a little hot-tempered, and nothing gets us more riled up than people we . . . that, well,  _belong_ to us, are threatened or hurt."

Theo looked up, slightly surprised at being referenced as belonging to Hermione. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, but the way that he noticed Harry possessively wrapping an arm around Daphne and her leaning into the embrace, he realised that he wasn't the only one. Seven years of living in the dungeons, and every snake he knew slithered toward warmth.

Turning his focus back to Hermione, he could see Bill raising his hands in surrender and nodding. She pointed to the edge of the property where she and Theo had Apparated in, and Bill and Remus walked away, withdrawing their wands as they moved, flicking them in manoeuvres that he recognised as ward adjustments.

"You must be Theo," someone said and he turned to spot the purple-haired witch standing beside Bill's wife, Fleur. "The man who knows his flowers. I'm Tonks, Remus's wife. I work at the Ministry and stop by Hermione's office every now and then," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. He fought the instinct to kiss it and shook the woman's hand instead.

Fleur turned and smiled sweetly at Theo as her two girls swung from their grip on her hands. "Félicitations. It has been far too long since we have had a wedding. We wish you and Hermione the best of luck."

"Thank you," he said politely.

"Making friends?" Hermione asked with a smile as she walked up behind Fleur and Tonks, bending forward to grab the green-haired boy around the waist and plant a kiss to his cheek as he squirmed in her grip, giggling.

"I'm behaving," Theo answered her, raising a curious brow as the boy's hair turned from green to the exact same variety of shades as Hermione's. He took a small step back in shock at the sight and Daphne smirked at him.

"Happens to us all," she whispered. "Frightening little flash-forward, isn't it?"

Theo didn't respond.

"Come say hello to a friend of mine," Hermione said and pulled the boy forward. "Theo, this is Remus's son and my  _favourite_ young wizard, so I hope you're not too broken-hearted at being pushed down the list," she said teasingly. "Teddy, this is my very good friend, Theo."

"Teddy?" Theo blinked rapidly and watched as the boy held his hand out. Clearing his throat, he took the hand and shook his. "Pleasure to meet you . . .  _Teddy_."

The boy smiled shyly and then ducked back behind Hermione. He reached a hand out, tugged on the pigtails of one of Fleur's little girls, and then made a dash for it when both tiny witches turned and hissed—actually  _hissed_ —chasing after him.

"I'm going to go see if Molly needs any help," Hermione said. "Harry come with me."

Daphne scooted closer to Theo and grinned. "How's your future looking now? The first time I met Teddy, Harry was carrying him through the Ministry, and he had hair as black as night and green eyes to match Harry's. I about had a heart attack."

Theo narrowed his eyes at her. "Really? Did he also have the  _same name_  as you?" Though, in all honesty, no one had called him "Teddy" since before he went to Hogwarts.

Daphne grinned, unaffected as ever by his clipped tone. "Did no one tell you what comes after love and marriage?"

"Shut up."

"Theo!" Hermione called from the open door. "Come on in and meet Mrs Weasley."

"I'll come with," Daphne said and stood with him. "She likes me."

Due to the fanfare the Gryffindors seemed to make about meeting one witch, he was reminded of the process a person went through the first time they were introduced to Narcissa Malfoy. Though instead of a quiet parlour or elegant dining room, he was led into a stuffy kitchen with a thousand different smells assaulting his senses, mostly good but still overwhelming. Instead of a graceful and poised witch who held out her hand for him to kiss her knuckles, he was met with a sturdy-looking woman with an apron around her waist and a wooden spoon in her hand; the look in her eyes made him wonder if she was thinking of hitting him with it.

"Mrs Weasley," Hermione said sweetly, reaching for his hand. "This is my Theo."

Theo noted the possessive way Hermione spoke  _and_ how the older witch reacted. Potter had been right; Hermione was staking a claim. He was a small snake that had been captured by a lioness and taken back to her den where she was purposely letting the others know that no one could play with him except her.

"Ma'am," Theo said politely.

The woman put her free hand on her hip and stared at him with an intensity that surprisingly exceeded that of Hermione's father. Theo recalled much too late that this was the woman who had killed Bellatrix Lestrange. He prided himself on keeping his composure, but he secretly wondered if she could smell fear.

"I'll have you know, young man, I won't hold a grudge against  _any_ person for their parentage or what mistakes they might have made in their youth. However," Mrs Weasley huffed, "I find it odd and a bit disrespectful to our Hermione that this relationship—" She waved her wooden spoon at him. "—was kept secret for so long. And now you're getting married?"

"Molly . . ." Mr Weasley said calmly.

She turned and pointed her wooden spoon at him instead. "Living together! Is there any decency left in the world, I ask you?"

"I know it seems a bit soon to move into the manor," Daphne said, coming to their rescue. "But the place is rather large, and Theo's the Head of his House. Hermione needs to learn how to get around and manage the place."

Mrs Weasley did not look convinced.

Daphne frowned, blinking tears into her eyes as though summoned by magic. It was a trick that Theo knew all too well. It was something she used on her father to get what she wanted. She used to try and use on Professor Snape—it never worked—and on all the boys in Slytherin to have them do her dirty work for her. "After all, Theo's been all on his own for so long. I do hope he and Harry can become good friends. They have so much in common."

Theo eyed her curiously.

"No parents," Daphne whispered.

He wanted to glare at her. He didn't like being pitied for anything, but the manipulation was, at the very least, amusing. With the way that the scowl on Mrs Weasley's face dropped instantly, he could see it had worked like a charm. He didn't know whether to be grateful for Daphne or terrified of her. Potter had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Mrs Weasley squeaked, clutching at her chest. "You poor, sweet boy," she said, pulling him into a hug.

Theo looked, wide-eyed, over her shoulder at a smirking Daphne and a grinning Hermione. Suddenly, he remembered Potter's words days earlier when he'd asked if Theo minded talking about his family situation.

"Too skinny," Mrs Weasley said as she pulled away from him, gripping his shoulders as though she were measuring for muscle mass. He schooled his own features but noticed that Hermione cringed. "We'll fix that right away, don't you worry none. Everyone out," she shooed them. "Dinner will be ready soon. Go and do something useful with yourselves."

Doing something useful apparently included setting the large picnic table, monitoring the small, sticky children, and making sure that the two tiny witches didn't harm the small boy— _Teddy_ , Theo reminded himself.

While waiting for the rest of the large Weasley brood to show up, Theo joined Bill, Remus, and Harry for a butterbeer as they watched the women try to corral the children away from the gnome-infested garden. Little Dominique had already been bitten by one of the foul creatures.

"I received an owl earlier this week," Bill said. "Someone from the Diagon Dispensary was looking to upgrade their security wards which I guess is what your expertise is in, but you were unavailable. Since they do business directly with Gringotts, I was requested. Any reason why you turned it down?" he asked curiously, bringing the bottle to his lips. "I'm not walking into a trap, am I? Well, a trap that won't be much fun."

Theo chuckled, sharing in the joke. Curse-Breakers, by nature, didn't usually mind the dangerous parts of their careers. Sometimes a job got a little too risky, though. Theo had a few scars to prove it—ones he favoured greatly above the scars he'd received during the war.

He studied Bill for a moment, looking for hints of suspicion. He'd worked with Bill on a few cases, though not in close proximities but close enough to make casual pleasantries in passing. He recalled hearing what had happened during sixth year when Draco and Snape had taken flight out of Hogwarts leaving behind a wreckage, a fucked up situation, and a trail of bodies. One such body was Bill's after he'd been savaged by the werewolf, Greyback.

Bill was not a werewolf himself, though the scars on his face almost mirrored those on Lupin. Theo noted the way these two men stared at him, watching him carefully. He wondered if they could hear his heartbeat increase when he lied about a relationship with Hermione that had never existed before now.

They were protective because she belonged to them. He had to respect that. He also respected that even if they didn't know his situation, they shared similar traits. All men forced into war, regardless of the side they were on. All men who had been brutalised by monsters and had their skin torn and marked, cursed to suffer. All men who bore a stigma because of that curse. All men who, despite the war, the monsters, the stigmas, and the curses . . . had witches who seemed to adore them. Or in Theo's case, a witch who was willing to stand up for him.

Remus, Bill, and Harry started chuckling, and Theo was drawn from his thoughts. "Sorry. Umm . . . the Dispensary thing, yes, I umm . . . I've actually taken some time off of work. Wedding and all. Thought I was going to have to handle more on my own, but you've given Hermione a great deal of time off," he said and smiled at Remus. "Thank you."

"You take care of her and we'll call it even."

Theo nodded.

"You sure you're ready for marriage?" Bill asked. "Big commitment. Especially to Hermione Granger. She comes with a lot of baggage."

Theo couldn't help but narrow his eyes ever so slightly. "What kind of baggage is that?"

"Weasleys of course," Bill said with a hearty laugh. There was a loud crack of Apparition, and everyone turned toward the noise. "Speaking of baggage. I hope you're up for the challenge there, Nott."

"What challenge is that?" Theo asked.

"Oi!" A pair of  _nearly_ identical redheads approached the gathering. "What's this we hear about 'Mione getting herself hitched?"

"Can we throw the stag night?" one of them asked.

The other waggled his eyebrows. "Or provide entertainment for the hen night?"

Bill clapped Theo on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, mate. Good luck with that."


	22. Chapter 22

**March 14th, 2004**

Fred and George appeared with wicked grins on their faces, each with a wiggling four-year-old under an arm. Both men looked amused by the fact that Theo was present, but the children clearly needed to be dealt with before mischief could be made.

"We found these wayward money leeches lingering around our shop," Fred said.

George smirked and lifted the little girl in his arm upside down by the leg as she giggled. "Anyone want to take them off our hands?"

Fred pulled the boy up as well, holding the pair side by side like fish they'd caught at the pond. The boy in Fred's arms reached out for George, laughing as he screamed, "Daddy!"

George narrowed his eyes at the child. "Oi, you mine then?" he asked and then examined the girl in his own grip curiously. "Forge, we mixed them up again I think."

" _They're_  not twins you idiots," Bill said, rolling his eyes.

Gavin, George and Katie's son, was a spitting image of his father, but Felicia, Fred and Angelina's daughter, had darker skin and black hair like her mother. Both children  _had_ ended up with a smattering of Weasley freckles.

"Go on then," Fred said, setting his nephew down on the grass. "Go cause trouble."

"Don't get caught," George added as he put his niece down.

Both then grinned up at Theo. "Now then."

Hermione rushed forward and stepped between the twins and her fiancé, hands outstretched to further the distance between them. "Oh, no you don't. Empty your pockets!"

Fred and George desperately clutched at one another.

"She doesn't trust us, Forge." George stuck out his bottom lip and wiped a non-existent tear from his eye.

"That she doesn't, Gred."

"We just want to shake the man's hand, Granger."

"A bit of a welcome to the family is all."

"Pockets," she hissed, not falling for their lies.

George scowled at her teasingly as he emptied his pockets which contained a packet of Belching Powder, two Stink Pellets, and an Inflatable Tongue.

Hermione stared at the loot and shook her head. "What do you even  _need_ this for?" she asked, holding up the Inflatable Tongue.

George shrugged nonchalantly. "Emergencies," he said, toying with a hole in one of his turned out pockets.

She shook her head and turned to the other twin. "You next."

"No can do, 'Mione. Angie cleans me out anytime I leave the house," Fred admitted, and to prove it, turned the pockets of his jeans as well as his robes out, revealing nothing but lint.

She still felt suspicious of them. "You'll behave?"

George smirked. "Never said  _that_. He's marrying an unofficially adopted Weasley. You're like a sister to us, you are. Man needs a good and proper threat."

"That he does," Fred agreed.

She looked back at Theo, who raised a brow at her, appearing not in the slightest intimidated by the dastardly pair. "Feel free to hex them," she told him.

Fred and George stepped up excitedly and stared at Theo, face-to-face.

"Right then," Fred began, "should we remark on the fact that  _another_ snake has—"

" _Weaseled_  his way in?" Theo offered with a lifted brow.

Harry burst into laughter, and the twins responded with a sly grin.

"We could insult his House," George suggested. "His friends."

"There's that whole pesky Death Eater thing," Fred said dismissively.

"That's hardly reaching. I'd be embarrassed for us, Freddie, were we to be so predictable."

"Boring even."

"Expected."

"Anticipated."

"Could insult his face," Fred suggested thoughtfully as he narrowed his eyes at Theo, stroking his chin as though in deep thought.

"He  _is_ rather hideous," George said, nodding his head as he stared at Theo. "In an . . . unfortunately attractive way."

"Nauseatingly handsome," Fred agreed.

"Grotesquely good-looking."

"Repugnantly fit."

"You see his eyes?" George asked, his tone full of disgust. "You could get right lost in them, you could."

"We object to this marriage, 'Mione!" Fred declared loudly, slamming his fist on the table before raising a pointed finger in the air. "On the basis that he is far too pretty for you!"

"Far too pretty!" George agreed and the two stormed away from in protest, leaving behind a gobsmacked Theo surrounded by a group of giggling Gryffindors.

"Pests," Hermione hissed after the twins.

Despite the brief moment of humorous relief provided by Fred and George, Theo's nerves steadily increased as more and more people showed up for the large Sunday meal. He stayed either by Hermione or Daphne the majority of the time and offered to help when he saw a need, but was always brushed off by Molly, who appeared to insist on doing everything herself and yet still scolded her children for never pitching in.

When Pansy and Ron arrived with a screaming Artie in tow, Molly fussed over both the child and his pregnant mother.

Blaise and Ginny's arrival was Theo's only reprieve from the tension he was feeling at the non-stop questions regarding his and Hermione's relationship—why they'd kept it secret, plans for the wedding, and subtle insults over their current cohabitation. Going from the organised serenity of Slytherin House to living on his own—either at the manor or while travelling—the past six years had made Theo uncomfortable in large groups. He desperately wanted to blend into the background, but with  _this_ group, it seemed near impossible.

Not only was his social discomfort making him tense, but he found himself growing bitter over the way the people fawned over Hermione. Her circle of friends, he knew, relied on her  _far_ too much to solve their large, small, and often petty squabbles. But she also seemed to rely on  _them_ , or at least, the option seemed available. Molly and Arthur treated her as one of their own children, and all of the Weasley children at the table regarded her as a sister, just like the twins had declared earlier. The children even called her "Aunt 'Mione."

She fit in so perfectly well that Theo couldn't help but wonder how many of them, if any, knew about her mother's illness. Had she informed them at all? Had they noticed her stress? The worries behind her eyes? Had anyone even asked after her, or did they just assume that she was the strong, unbreakable Hermione Granger they'd known for so many years?

He found himself angry at them for  _clearly_ not knowing, and angry at himself for thinking that she needed  _him_ when she obviously had a massive network of support for when she really, truly required it. No, her breakdown the other night had been a fluke, and Theo just happened to have been there. He needed  _her_ more than she needed  _him_. It made him feel unbalanced and tense, and he desperately wanted to steal her away, kiss her back in the comfort of black silk sheets and a quiet house, make her whimper and moan so he felt at least moderately useful.

Daphne was too far down the table to be able to comment quietly about his stiff posture, even if she noticed it. Pansy was caught up in her own world which included stealing things she wasn't allowed to eat off of other people's plates. Blaise, despite shagging the only daughter in a family full of protective boys, was wrapped in a protective cocoon of the family matriarch simply because he was a terrible flirt.

Theo was on his own.

"When are you going to make an honest woman out of my daughter, Blaise Zabini?" Mrs Weasley asked, her lips pursed, and her eyes slightly narrowed as she pointed a fork at the man.

Blaise held a hand to his chest as though asking, "Who me?" before batting his eyes at her. He grinned and winked as he said, "I only put up with Ginevra in the first place because she reminds me of  _you_ , dolcezza."

Mrs Weasley blushed and rolled her eyes at him while her children groaned in distaste as though this were an old joke told one too many times. "You should be a proper wizard and  _marry_ her," she insisted, blatantly ignoring his flirtations—or provoking them, Theo wasn't quite sure which.

Blaise, in reply to the idea of a wedding, took Molly's hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Run away with me, goddess."

She  _actually_ giggled, her husband rolled his eyes, and each of her sons threw a dinner roll at Blaise's head, booing him. Ginny purposely ignored the entire scene happening between her boyfriend and mother, favouring instead a copy of  _Quidditch Monthly_  that she'd brought with her to the table. Everyone was laughing and enjoying one another's company, and even Theo chuckled quietly at the idiocy of his friend.

 _Everyone_ laughed except, of course, Percy.

"Inappropriate," was all the thin, scowling man said under his breath— loud enough that his words were heard all the way down at the other end of the table where Theo and Hermione sat, squeezed together between Fred and George and across from the Lupins.

Percy, upon arrival, had not made his distaste for Theo's presence a secret.

At first glimpse of the former Death Eater, he'd looked at his young wife and passed over their sleeping one-year-old and not so quietly mumbled out, "Audrey, take the children home," while directing his five-year-old daughter's face away from Theo and Hermione.

Since then, Percy had offered nothing but underhanded comments, usually unheard by Mr and Mrs Weasley, though the few that slipped by had earned him a stern glance from one or both parents.

The company—Percy excluded—despite being overbearing and loud, was welcoming, and the food, despite being far too rich for Theo's stomach, was delicious. He struggled through the small amounts that Hermione put on his plate, even though she told him to just vanish it when no one was looking. When Mrs Weasley saw his plate was clean, however, she insisted on filling it up again, clearly taking his thin frame as a personal project; the words "fatten him up by the wedding" may have been spoken.

"Time for pudding! Arthur, come and help me," Mrs Weasley said excitedly as she stood. "Theo, dear, I hope you like treacle tart!"

He forced himself not to groan as he smiled politely.

As the Weasley parents ducked back into the house, he felt Hermione put a hand on his right arm. "You don't have to," she insisted, speaking softly into his ear.

Theo smiled and pretended that the others around them could easily mistake her whispered concerns for words of love and adoration. He reached over with his left hand to take her palm in both of his affectionately, but the Burn Salve from earlier had dried the sleeve of his robes to his healing wound, and he hissed as it tore at the tender flesh.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, taking his arm and pulling the sleeve up gently. "Oh, you've torn some skin. Let me go inside and get some Dittany for it," she insisted and stood up, chasing on the heels of the Weasley parents in search of the first aid.

"How bad is it?" Tonks reached over to look at the recently healed burn and even more recently torn skin, just above the Dark Mark on Theo's inner arm. "Ouch. Been there."

"Can you cover that disgusting thing up?" Percy said. "There are children present."

Victoire, Dominique, Artie, and Felicia all remained focused on the game that Teddy and Gavin were playing, trying to throw peas into each other's mouths from across the table.

"Piss off, Perce," George said, rolling his eyes. "Ain't nothing but a tattoo. Fred's got one of a unicorn taking a piss on his back, and the little ones have seen it before."

Fred nodded gravely. "Peach Schnapps and Amsterdam are not my friends."

"No but the pictures of you propositioning a Muggle police horse are framed in my house," George said with a delighted grin.

"There's a difference between a drunken mistake and a reminder that we're all dining with devils," Percy snapped at his younger brothers.

Almost immediately, Daphne, Blaise, and Pansy reached for their wands, clearly having put up with the snide comments for far too long.

"Where's my fucking wand?" Pansy screeched as she glared at Ron.

"Harry!" Daphne yelled and looked at her fiancé, who averted his gaze.

Ginny was the only one at the table to not look ashamed as she held up Blaise's wand. "We snatched them when you weren't looking. Percy was going to be a twat no matter what."

"And the first thing they do is attempt to hex me," Percy said, shaking his head in disappointment with a look on his face that was edging close to an "I told you so" type of expression. "It's not enough that my own brother and sister marry Slytherins, but Harry as well; now Hermione's running off with a Death Eater."

"Not getting married," Blaise said quickly, pointing to himself and Ginny. "Get that idea out of your head right now."

Pansy stood, glaring down the table. "What the fuck does it matter to you if Hermione marries a  _former_ Death Eater?"

"Pansy," Theo said quietly, pleading for her to stop.

"Shut the fuck up, Theo!" she snapped at him as though the matter didn't concern him one bit.

Percy grimaced at her tone and volume. "It matters to the whole of Wizarding Britain. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, whether they like it or not, are a symbol of what we fought for in the war."

" _We_?" Ron scoffed. "You fought a  _battle_ , Percy. We fought a bloody  _war_. And you're right, we  _don't_ like that we're a stupid fucking symbol."

"And even if we did," Harry jumped in. "We fought for equality in the war. We fought so people—all people—could live without persecution."

"It's one thing to play nice," Percy said, his face turning a bit red like the other Weasleys. "But Hermione is a Muggle-born, and that actually stands for something now. Now she's gone and  _sullied_ herself with—"

Theo stood and the table beneath him shook with the movement. "You'll watch your tongue, Weasley," he said, his tone even but firm. "That's my future wife you're speaking ill of."

Percy blinked rapidly but then stood, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin that he must have brought with him because there weren't any others on the table. He threw the napkin down as though it were a gauntlet, and straightened his collar. "Are you threatening a Ministry official?"

Fred snorted loudly and rolled his eyes.

"You work in the Public Relations Department, you twat," George muttered.

"And no, he's not threatening," Blaise said, standing up and approaching Percy. "Theo knows better than to threaten. He knows that a prick like you has likely looked over all the former Death Eater probationary terms. I, on the other hand, was never Marked."

"Maybe we should—" Remus said just as Blaise shoved Percy.

"Percy needs his arse kicked," Ron insisted, settling his hand on Remus's arm to stop him from interfering. "I'm tired of his bad attitude. S'not just Theo. He talks like this about my wife; Daphne and Blaise too. Harry's right. Shit like that isn't what we fought for."

"Blaise," Theo said, walking over to his friend. "You don't need to fight my battles for me."

"Why? You fought plenty for me. Besides, Hermione's  _my_ friend too," Blaise said. "And this fucker just implied she was  _tainted_ by marrying you. If you ask me, she's moving up since you're such a fine catch."

"So very handsome," George said dreamily. "Revoltingly so."

As Theo tried to persuade Blaise to back down, Percy, eyes wide in the face of two approaching Slytherins, balled his hand into a fist and swung in a panic, his knuckles colliding with the side of Theo's jaw with a loud  _THWACK_!

" _Flipendo_!" Hermione shouted from the porch, wand in hand. The Knockback Jinx hit Percy in the chest and threw him backwards, hitting the ground. "What the hell?" She rushed forward, pushing Blaise out of the way to reach Theo.

"I'm fine," he insisted bitterly, cupping his sore jaw with one hand. "I've just overstayed my welcome."

"No," Hermione said, eyes sad.

"Don't let that git send you off," George said. "You're good company, you are."

"Not bad to look at either," Fred added.

The rest of the Weasleys joined in trying to persuade Theo to stay. Only the Slytherins remained silent, for which he was grateful. He glanced to Daphne and noticed that she was staring at his hands—knuckles white, clenched fists shaking ever so slightly.

"Please, Hermione, would you thank Mr and Mrs Weasley for their gracious hospitality," Theo said, ignoring everyone and leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll see you at home."

"Theo!" Hermione called after him as he walked toward the edge of the properly to Disapparate. She took a step forward only to be held back by Blaise.

"Not a good idea," he said. "Sometimes Gryffindors make things worse with your need to make things better. Some things just need to be. Daphne, go Floo Draco."


	23. Chapter 23

**March 14th, 2004**

Draco arrived at Nott Manor annoyed. His night alone with Luna, licking butterscotch off of her belly and other soft parts, had been interrupted by a panicked fire-call and a story about angry gingers and a predictably self-righteous Theo.

"Lovely bruise you've got there," he commented after Pixy directed him to the master bathroom where he found Theo sitting on the floor, his back up against the bathtub and a dark bottle in one hand. His jaw was slightly swollen and looked like it was already taking on a darker hue. "I've always said that you looked good in blues and purples. I brought firewhisky," he said, holding up his own bottle. "Daphne screamed through the Floo that my services were needed and, as such, I figured liquor was a defining characteristic of our happy little chats."

Theo made something that Draco assumed to be an angry grunting noise as he took a seat beside his friend on the floor.

"I'm not  _supposed_ to drink firewhisky."

Draco scoffed. "Says who?"

"My witch."

" _Yours_  now, is she?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "Thanks to you."

Draco opened the bottle in his hand and then transfigured the top of it into a shot glass before pouring the amber liquid in. "I'll accept your gratitude in the form of a 1982 Beychevelle Merlot," he said and then swirled the whisky in the small cup and smelled it as though he were about to savour a fine wine.

Theo groaned, leaning his head back against the tub. "Merlin, you're pretentious. If I hadn't seen your family tree myself, I would think you were positively nouveau riche."

Draco sneered in reply and then drank down the shot of firewhisky. "I'll assume your sour mood has everything to do with  _earlier_ company. Fine, your gratitude may come in the form of babysitting when my heir arrives and his nightly screaming keeps me awake."

"Why on earth would I watch your child when you have a house full of elves to do it for you?"

"Because you're grateful. We've established this," Draco said in an incredulous tone. "I obtained a witch for your pleasure and life support. Why, exactly, doesn't she allow you to drink firewhisky? You're drinking elf wine."

Theo looked down at the bottle in his hands. It had seemed like a good idea when he'd Apparated home from the Burrow. He wasn't due for another Pain Relief Potion for several hours and even then the amount of food he'd eaten at dinner was likely to have him sick all night. Wine seemed like an adequate supplement for pain relief.

"I'm not supposed to drink this either. Nothing but calming or cleansing teas and water. Can't even have butterbeer. No rich foods, red meats, or anything covered in a butter sauce. It all makes me sick and I, as brilliant as I am, couldn't see it. But  _she_ did," he said and then brought the bottle to his lips and took several large gulps of it. "She knew about the potions mixing up, and the food that makes me ill, and she knew how to bring down my fever when I almost—"

"Almost what?"

"Nothing."

Draco appeared to ignore the unspoken words, taking a hint to do so from Theo's scowl. "So no fatty foods. How'd you survive at the Weasel coop?"

"I'm sure I'll hate myself in the morning if I survive the night," Theo said sarcastically.

Draco glared at his friend. "Don't joke. I went to a lot of effort to secure this marriage to save you. Lost a perfectly good life debt over it," he added and ignored the way that Theo rolled his eyes. "Which one hit you?"

"Percy," Theo angrily hissed.

He wasn't even mad about being punched, though getting hit was never a pleasant experience. No, Percy had insulted Hermione's honour, and Theo had been taught—both by his mother's good example and his father's atrocious one—that a man defends his witch. Percy's slight against Hermione was also a reminder of what she was giving up in exchange for his life: her reputation. She would be considered tainted, blemished, sullied in the eyes of their world, all because of him.

"Everyone else was perfectly amenable if not a tad . . . overbearing," Theo said, trying to bury his bitterness and anger, but it crept right back up. "Apparently, however, the blemish upon my skin was too repulsive to show at the dinner table."

Draco nodded thoughtfully and then tilted his head as Hermione's little beast crept into the bathroom with them, curling up in Theo's lap. "Speaking of repulsive, what the fuck is that?"

"Hermione's cat," Theo replied, running the tips of his fingers through the orange fur.

"That thing is still alive?"

"Yes, and don't get too close," he cautioned. "It doesn't like anyone but her."

"Seems strangely affectionate with you," Draco commented as he poured himself another drink. "Perhaps you're soulmates with its mistress."

Theo smirked deviously. "Hardly. I've been slipping it bits of bacon so it'll follow me around. Way to a witch's heart it through her familiar, they say."

"Shame then that I can't see any of the ones that belong to my wife," Draco said with a laugh. "Why're you putting so much effort into this? The contract is signed; she's going to go through with it."

Theo frowned and contemplated the question. It wasn't surprising that Draco would ask such a thing. He'd been given things his entire life without needing to earn them. Surprisingly, even Luna adored him despite all of his flaws, and he certainly doted upon the witch, but it never seemed to be specifically for  _her_ benefit. How could he explain to a man who refused to often acknowledge the past that they'd survived, that Theo felt compelled to atone for it? That he felt he didn't deserve Hermione and, therefore, felt he needed to work for her—earn her.

"Why did you bring Luna cake?"

Draco's posture stiffened defensively. "What?"

"When she was a prisoner in your home, and your psychotic aunt was pacing above in the halls thinking of ways to flay her alive in order to get information, or for fun, whatever struck her fancy," he said, noticing the way that Draco's emotional mask went up immediately, as it always did when the war and things they'd gone through were mentioned. "Why did you bring Luna cake?"

"I was told to feed her to keep her alive," Draco said coolly.

"You could have brought her gruel or mouldy bread or week-old garbage. You could have fixed her a stupid sandwich, but you brought her  _cake_."

After swallowing down another gulp of firewhisky, this time taken straight from the bottle, Draco muttered, "She likes sugar. Anything sweet."

Theo nodded in understanding. "And our world was nothing but sour and bitter. ' _Her mouth's culled sweetness by thy kisses shed. On cheeks and neck and eyelids, and so led. Back to her mouth, which answers there for all, what sweeter than these things.'"_

"Something like that." Draco offered a taste of firewhisky to Crookshanks. The beast sniffed the liquid and then turned its head away. Draco scowled but tried not to look offended. "How're you and Granger? You didn't bring her cake in a dungeon, but you  _did_ dine with Weasleys. Have you at least kissed her yet?"

Theo drank several more gulps of elf wine and then let out a long, loud exhale.

"She tastes like hope that I never knew I wanted again," he said, staring off into the darkness of the bedroom on the other side of the open door. "She lights a fire in my chest and makes me want to be strong but makes me feel helplessly weak all at once. When I wake in the morning, her hand is on my chest like she's reaching for me." He touched his own hand to the spot on his sternum where Hermione's small hand usually curled against his skin at night. "Or reassuring herself that I've not died in my sleep, and it makes me want to  _live_. Do you know what it's like to desperately want to live when you've been resigned to death?"

Draco stared at him with a raised eyebrow. "And  _I'm_ pretentious? Give me that bottle," he said and snatched up the glass jug from Theo's grip, smelling the top of it. "I think your elf wine has gone bad. If I'm to cheer you up, you're drinking firewhisky."

Another glass was transfigured, and Draco poured the amber liquor out, holding up his own in silent toast.

 _A toast to what?_  Theo wondered.  _To the future? To marriage? To the past and the friends they'd lost along the way? To the strangers that died at their hands?_

"Do you ever feel guilty?"

Draco shrugged. "For what? Taking the Mark? Following orders? Torture? Murder?"

"For dragging Luna into the stain of your shadow."

Flinching, Draco sighed heavily. "Luna's as unblemished as they come."

"And yet some people still call her Death Eater's whore in the streets."

Draco's hands shook as he poured out the next two shots. "Arseholes."

"I'm condemning Hermione," Theo said, staring into the liquid of the glass that Draco handed him, wondering if he could drown in it, and if he even wanted to.

 _No_. No, he didn't.

"She'll be a Death Eater's whore, a traitorous Mudblood, and the whole of the world will look down on her, tossing aside the reputation she's worked so bloody hard for . . . all because of me," he hissed angrily and threw the glass of firewhisky at the wall, watching as, instead of shattering into a thousand pieces, it turned back into a wine cork as it dropped to the tiled floor, transfiguration coming undone.

"I'm not letting you die," Draco said defiantly.

"Neither am I. I'm confessing my sins here. I'm damning her with me, dragging her into my pit of hell, selfishly clinging to her the whole way down." Running a hand through his hair, Theo only then realised how hard he was breathing. His heart was pounding like an angry war drum in his chest. "How . . . ? How can I  _justify_ that? How can I  _repay_ that? She doesn't care for money or prestige or jewels. What the fuck can I give her to even begin to compensate for being bound to me?"

Without looking at him, Draco offered, "Cunnilingus wouldn't hurt."

* * *

At Blaise's insistence, Hermione didn't return to Nott Manor for several hours.

"He needs time; this is how Theo works," the man had said, and Daphne had driven the point home by telling her that Draco was necessary because he was Theo's  _Harry_.

It made sense of course. Before, during, and after the war, it was usually only Harry that Hermione could properly lean on when she allowed herself to feel weak. She'd hole herself up in Grimmauld Place when she could and have a good cry while her best friend stroked her hair and made promises that everything would be all right, occasionally asking if there was anyone she'd like him to arrest to make her smile.

The thought that Draco was doing the Slytherin equivalent of that with Theo both amused and saddened her at the same time.

So she stayed.

Stayed and screamed at Percy for his ignorance and prejudice until she was red in the face and he was crying— _literally crying_. Then she'd apologised to Molly and Arthur, explained the situation, and watched in what felt like justice as the matriarch angrily yelled at her third born child about manners, about how she could still turn him over her knees, yelled at him until he carried the expression of a scolded toddler.

When Hermione  _did_ finally return to the manor, she stumbled into the bedroom looking for Theo only to see the bathroom door open, the place smelling like a pub. Theo's head was hung over the toilet and Draco sat beside him, one hand rubbing his friend's back, the other gripped around a half-empty bottle of firewhisky.

He looked up at her as she entered. "You're not the only one who can take care of 'im, Granger," Draco drawled, the slow words coming out with  _near_ precise pronunciation. "Not s'fucking special just cause you're gonna marry 'im."

Hermione rolled her eyes. As if she hadn't been dealing with ridiculous children all day. "Shame it wouldn't have worked out between the two of you. I'm sure you would have made one another delightfully happy."

Draco nodded in agreement. "Would've made things a right easier. Especially for  _him_."

"Do you want a Sober-Up Potion before you leave?" Hermione asked Draco as he struggled to stand.

"What for? "M'fine."

She raised a brow. "Say my name."

"Granger."

"My  _first_ name."

Silver eyes lazily stared at her for a full two minutes of absolute silence as Draco tried to focus before he admitted defeat and said, "A Sober-Up Potion would be much appreciated, Granger."

Unfortunately, it appeared as though they were out of Sober-Up, so Hermione pinned a note to the front of Draco's robes, apologising to Luna for the state that her husband would be returning home in, and then she sent the man through the Floo, crossing her fingers that he stumbled out of the right fireplace on the other end.

Hermione returned to the bathroom to find Theo asleep on the floor.

* * *

When Theo woke again hours later, Hermione was sitting beside him, a book in hand. He couldn't see the cover entirely, but could read the words "Fairy Tales" just beneath the pad of her thumb. The fingers of her other hand fidgeted with something, and he looked down to spot a dried cherry blossom that had clearly been preserved by the pressed pages of a book.

"Cinderella," Hermione said, answering his silent question. "Originally  _Cenerentola_. It's gone through plenty of versions. I, myself, have always preferred  _Aschenputtel_  by the Brothers Grimm, but I have to admit that I prefer the glass slippers in Perrault's  _Cendrillon_ to the silk or gold in other versions."

"I would have thought you'd have liked gold," Theo commented, clearing his throat that still felt raw and tasted bitter from being sick hours earlier. "Crimson and gold, what every little Gryffindor is made up of."

"You can see through glass," she said as though he hadn't spoken at all. "It can't hide anything. It's merely a container that holds what's really there. Visible for everyone. No pretences. No hiding."

He reached for his wand, lying there on the floor beside him, and cast a Cleansing Charm on his mouth. "I hope you conveyed my apologies to Mr and Mrs Weasley."

She nodded. "I did. They, in return, apologised for their poorly-behaved children and have invited us over for lunch on a day of our choosing in the coming weeks." Without looking away from the book, she placed the cherry blossom between the pages and then, with her now free hand, reached for a potion phial that had been sitting next to her. "For your hangover."

"Out of Sober-Up?" he asked, looking at the Pain Relief Potion she'd given him. "What did you do with Draco?"

"Sent him home completely pissed. We should get something nice for Luna to compensate her for the state in which her husband was returned to her."

"And what should I get my own bride to apologise for returning home to the state of her groom?" he asked, his tone of voice somewhat bitter and frustrated. "Perhaps a suitable husband? Someone who can properly care for  _her_ instead of the reverse?"

She finally looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Do I look like a fragile flower to you?"

"Your friends don't know about your mother, do they?"

She flinched.  _Merlin, Gryffindors can't hide anything, can they?_

"Do you know what the first thing you're taught when you're sorted into Slytherin? How to hide your emotions. How to control your words and actions. It's a lifelong lesson that begins there if it hasn't already at home. Lesson number two is learning to read everyone else."

She looked away from him.

"I could tell immediately who at dinner tonight knew our secret. All of our friends, of course, but both Bill and Lupin know something's not right with me, and not in a dangerous way. The Weasley parents know nothing, but instead are a mixture of hopeful and unsure of our impending nuptials. The twins are curious and intrigued on the surface, but there's a lingering defensiveness beneath it all. Percy, obviously, is filled with anger and resentment just by my presence, but he's also terrified. Little flinches when he speaks, and when he socked me in the face, he had his eyes closed. They all look at you with a mixture of worry and concern mixed with a forced joy. But Lupin . . . Lupin  _knows_."

Hermione's eyes widened. "What?"

"You told him about your mother, but not me. Why?"

"I . . . I needed to tell  _someone_. Someone who wouldn't pity me or fuss. Someone who would understand that some illnesses can't be fought."

Theo nodded in understanding. "A werewolf would likely be good for that. Why not your friends?"

"They would try to help."

"And?"

"And they can't!"

"Can  _I_?"

Hermione frowned and silently shook her head.

"Are you Cinderella then?" he asked as he reached out, touching the spine of the book still in her hand. "An average girl pulled into a life of magic only to become the enviable princess?"

She rolled her eyes. "Would that make  _you_ the prince?"

"I'm the glass slipper."

Hermione scoffed. "You're hardly transparent, Theo."

"No, but I'm hard and beautiful," he said in a tone that lacked ego, "and I'll wrap myself around you in the hopes that when people stop and stare, and they  _will_ stare Hermione," he said in a warning voice, "they will look through me and see you instead. Eventually, I will shatter and break like glass does and, if we're both very lucky, I won't cut you in the process."


	24. Chapter 24

**March 25th, 2004**

Over the next week and a half, Theo learnt a great many things about Hermione Granger.

He learnt, the morning after his bender with Draco, that she was perfectly willing to take care of him when he was sick from the curse, but she was cross with him despite his hangover and refused to lower her volume when she realised his headache wasn't Dark Mark related. He learnt that she fed the cat before she ever considered feeding herself, and that crossing her before she'd had her morning cup of coffee was a level of stupidity akin to being cheeky in Professor Snape's class.

Theo watched every morning with barely open eyes as Hermione would wake and remove her hand from his chest only to watch him carefully, inspecting him for normal breathing patterns, before she ever stepped out of bed. She changed her clothes behind the closet doors, kept her wand on her at all times, and sang in the shower no matter what kind of mood she was in.

After breakfast, which she would make alongside Pixy and the other elves—whom she'd somehow either charmed or threatened into letting her work beside them—she would kiss his cheek goodbye and leave through the front doors where she would Disapparate away to visit her parents. Most days she would return hours later, looking angry and mumbling under her breath about the stubbornness of people who refuse to let others take care of them. He wondered if she realised the irony of her ramblings.

Theo learnt that she kept tabs on all of her friends and would run to their side whenever they needed her. She babysat for Ron and Pansy and went with Luna to her appointments at St Mungo's if Draco was unavailable. She made a weekly batch of chocolate biscuits for Lupin and treacle toffee for Daphne. She personally brewed Ginny's Contraceptive Potions as well as an extra strength Sober-Up Potion that she sent by owl along with a sternly worded letter to Harry's godfather, who was living somewhere south of Surrey. She attended a children's league Quidditch match where Teddy played Chaser, and once a week she would meet up with Molly Weasley to knit.

She also once stopped by the Ministry and put a duck in Draco's office.

He learnt that, despite all of their combined friends insisting that she would always be inside the library of the manor, he often found her instead in the potions lab which she had completely taken over. She insisted on brewing all the potions that he took, claiming that local apothecaries used the cheapest ingredients that had likely lost their potency.

She refused to use his money on anything unless it was specifically for him, something that was annoying. He'd brought it up only once and received a doorframe slammed in his face that not even sweetly whispered poetry could open.

He learnt that she was fickle as hell.

"Daphne's got her head in the fireplace wanting to know if you're still planning on meeting up to plan something called a hen night," Theo said as he walked into the potions lab to see her hovering over a large cauldron, curly hair half-pinned up with a quill the way Draco's wife pinned hers up with her own wand.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned. "A hen night is a female equivalent to a stag night."

"What's a stag night?"

She looked up at him surprised. "It's a . . . you don't have those in the Wizarding world? Huh. I guess since Pansy and Ron got married so quickly I never even thought about it. Didn't you do anything with Draco before he and Luna got married?"

Theo shrugged. "Sat around the manor and drank firewhisky, toasting to the end of his bachelor ways."

Hermione smirked. "Well, Muggles do something similar, only it usually involves a lot more liquor than I'd wager you all drank before Draco's wedding, as well as strippers."

"What's a stripper?"

She chuckled as she stirred the cauldron eighteen times counter-clockwise, making sure to carefully count in her head before she spoke again. "Nude entertainment."

His eyebrows raised and then furrowed. "And Daphne's planning something like this for you?"

"Girls usually go dancing," she told him, smirking at the amusing way he'd growled out the question. "Presents are included. Usually very inappropriate, and since Luna's coming . . . God, I don't even want to know what they're going to give me."

Theo briefly recalled hearing about a shopping trip that Draco took with Luna to Paris shortly after their wedding, where he listed in alphabetical order the types of lingerie that his new wife purchased. Babydoll, camisole, chemise, fishnet, lace, satin, silk . . .

"Distracted?" Hermione asked with a smirk. "Be careful if you're coming in here. I'm brewing Wolfsbane Potion. You had a cough earlier. One wrong move, and I'll have us both breathing poisoned gas. I'd like to not die a virgin."

Theo's eyes widened dramatically. "A what?!"

"Well, it's been a while," she said with a laugh and then added, "a  _long_ while. I might as well be."

He nodded in understanding but said nothing until a smug grin crossed his face. "I could . . . remedy the situation?"

"Really? You would do that just for me?" She looked up and laughed again, rolling her eyes. "Close the door on your way out."

He learnt that she could be really cruel when she wanted to be.

* * *

Theo learnt things about himself as well.

Like how difficult it was to share a bed with a witch and be both desperate to and terrified of touching her.

Early morning sunrays broke through the cracks in the curtains of their bedroom window and Theo used the extra light to stare at the witch across from him. She'd travelled in the night to the space in the middle of her bed. Closer, each night, until she was practically in his arms.

The scent of her hair woke him every morning, and he slowly slipped out of bed to take his potions and pills in the hope that today would be a good, pain-free day, before crawling back in beside her, hoping that she'd sleep as long as possible so he could enjoy the way she relaxed against him, hand curled against his chest. Five nights earlier, he went to bed without a shirt to test a theory, and after she'd gawked at him for a good five minutes, they'd gone to bed and still, like clockwork, he woke with her hand pressed against his skin.

Theo smiled at her as he pretended that in those early silent moments before the day began, that they were a normal couple, desperately in love and sharing a life together. He watched her take in soft breaths and adjust in her sleep. Her nose would twitch every now and then followed by a stray curl falling in her face, once actually landing in her mouth.

He grinned and reached forward, gently moving the lock away from her face, toying with it between his fingers and admiring the variations of colour in the strands. While staring at the curl in his hand, she adjusted her body with a yawn and a stretch, pushing her t-shirt covered breast against the back of his hand.

Theo, shocked by the touch, pulled his hand away as though he'd been burnt, cursing himself angrily for his quick reflexes and childish reactions. She was his witch—soon to be his wife—in his bed, and he  _knew_ that she wanted him. He'd caught her, not two weeks ago, post orgasm. He'd smelt her. Tasted her. She'd moaned with her fingers in his mouth as he sucked at the lingering essence on her skin.

Merlin, he wanted to drink from the source.

Heart beating rapidly, he brushed a mass of her hair back away from her shoulder, revealing the long expanse of her neck. Taking a shot in the dark, Theo leant in and pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat, working his way back to the space beneath her ear. Her soft and sleepy moans became the battle drums that drew up his courage as he placed his palm against her ribs and slowly worked his way up.

 _What's the worst that could happen?_  he thought excitedly as the tips of his fingers reached the underside of her breast.  _Oh, that's right, she could call me an unprincipled rake and end the marriage contract, resigning me to death_  . . . but Merlin, he felt like he was dying already if he couldn't touch her and—She moaned again and Theo felt his pulse thrum at the base of his cock in response.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought.  _We're all going to die someday._

He softly sucked at her neck as he palmed her breast, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the centre, circling her nipple with excitement as it hardened beneath his touch. He breathed out sharply against her throat when she whimpered and hitched her thigh up against his hips.

"Please wake up, Hermione," he said softly. "I'm a rotten man who's already groped you in your sleep, and I'll apologise for that, but I desperately need some consent here to do anything more."

"Yes," she whispered.

Theo pulled back and stared down into her honey-brown eyes. "You're awake?"

She nodded, lips parted and breathing heavy. "Have been for a while."

"Oh, thank Merlin." He kissed her desperately, groaning when she opened her mouth to him, reaching his lips with her tongue before he even thought to do the same to her.  _Too long, too long_ , he thought as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, surprised when she began gently sucking on it.  _Too long since I've touched . . . Too long since I've been . . . Since anyone has . ._. His cock ached at the sound she made when he squeezed her flesh, and his fingers abandoned her breasts in search for the hem of her t-shirt.

"Wait." She pulled away when the tips of his fingers touched bare skin.

 _Fuck_ , he thought in frustration but schooled his expression to one of acceptance. He could wait until she was ready, and he didn't want her to feel guilty for saying no. "I'm sorry, I was too—"

"Don't be silly. It's just . . ." She sighed nervously and then did that thing he noticed that Gryffindors did when they forced themselves to push through whatever nerves or fears they had, regardless of circumstance or consequence. Before he knew it, she was throwing her t-shirt across the room.

Reckless. She was reckless and . . . very topless.

He did his best not to make any embarrassing noises as though these were the first pair of breasts he'd ever seen. But it had been so very long since he'd seen and touched  _any._ He could remember standing outside in Care of Magical Creatures in the middle of winter, watching as her friends teasingly shoved fistfuls of snow down the collar of her jumper. He had tried to avoid staring, but he remembered thinking that he knew— _knew!_ —that her nipples would be hard against the feel of the cold, and  _that_ thought had him wondering what they might look like.

Staring at them now—in glorious perfection—all he could wonder was what they tasted like.

"Please say something." Pulled by her voice, Theo looked up to see her nervously biting her bottom lip while  _he_ had been gawking at her like an idiot. "What are you thinking?"

Theo chuckled nervously. "I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself if I tell you."

"I meant . . . the scars," she said quietly, her brows drawn together with a vulnerable expression.

"The . . ." He blinked in confusion and looked from her eyes back to her exposed torso, finally catching her concern.

Her skin was peppered with reminders of the war. Small scratches here and there, likely from Slicing Hexes, though some looked like small burns. There a long purple scar that bisected her ribs, the end of it stopping on the underside of her right breast.

"We've been over this," he said calmly, touching her left forearm before recapturing her lips and allowing his fingers to trail over her skin, ignoring the textures of the scars he stumbled upon.

Hermione replied by touching his chest, the same spot as always, and then splaying her fingers out against his skin, occasionally running across a raised blemish on him that reminded her of her own. She, unlike Theo, would linger, wondering how he received them, wanting to know every moment of his history so she could add it all together in a complicated Arithmantic equation that would, perhaps, spell out their future. But when he thrust his hips against her, and she felt a hardness against her thigh, the numeric variables in her head went blurry and might as well have been Ancient Runes for all she knew.

He broke their kiss, hands running down the sides of her ribs, and he lowered himself to her breasts, rubbing his nose and then his closed lips against a nipple before circling it with his tongue and then engulfing it in his mouth. Hermione keened at the warmth that sent a pulsing heat between her thighs, and when he began to suck she made a noise that she'd later be embarrassed about. To prevent herself from making it again, she just started quietly chanting his name, "Theo, Theo, The . . . Oh!"

He pulled away from her and breathed against her sternum in the valley between her breasts. She could feel his fingers toying with the strings of her pyjama bottoms.

"Do you want me to stop?"

 _Please no. Gods no. Fuck no,_  Theo thought repeatedly, with effort and intent as though it were a nonverbal spell.

"Not yet," she said.

He grinned, catching her meaning immediately. No sex. No sex, but no stopping. Not yet.

She pulled him up to meet her lips once again, kissing him with shivering passion and anxious need. His fingers touched the skin just below her navel, rubbing back and forth and back and forth, whispering an unheard password that would grant them access. Hermione responded by tilting her hips forward and, before she had a chance to change her mind and break his heart, Theo dipped his fingers beneath her waistband, seeking out her warmth and moaning against her mouth when he found it, wet and waiting.

She giggled at the noise he made, and to make a point that he was  _not_ a man to be laughed at, he slipped two fingers inside of her and chuckled when she gasped, her eyes rolling in the back in her head.

His strokes were slow but purposeful, not simply providing friction but seeking, exploring, touching every place inside of her and watching with rapt attention at each and every reaction. When she let out a tiny cry of pleasure as he touched a certain spot, he pressed harder to see what new noises he could draw from her throat.

Instead, she replied in kind by very quickly pushing the waistband of his pants around his hips and pressing her hand against his cock, holding it in tandem between his abdomen and her palm. When he stroked her again, she followed suit and matched her movements to each of his, occasionally trying to distract him by pulling at his bottom lip with her teeth.

His hips rocked against her, increasing the pace when his stomach tightened.

Her lips parted and each exhale came out as a shudder.

He could feel her tightening around him. Worried that he would lose his focus if  _he_ came first, he watched her carefully as he pressed the heel of his palm against her clit and ground down upon it in a circling motion.

Her eyes widened and the deep, burning ache inside of her gave way to a quick, fluttering promise of relief. She gripped his shoulder for purchase, still holding his erection with her other hand as she came. When Theo followed her over the edge moments later, he kissed her and groaned helplessly into her mouth.

Silence filled the room save for the heavy breaths they shared until Hermione let out a strange giggle.

"Oh," she said, exhaling loudly, still touching him with both hands as though she couldn't stand to let him go. "Oh, Theo. You most certainly are not going to die," she proclaimed and starting laughing hysterically, a wide smile drawn across her face.

Theo smirked and kissed her jaw. "What makes you think I had any intentions of letting you go?"


	25. Chapter 25

**March 25th, 2004**

Hermione learnt a great many things about Theo Nott during the few short weeks since being engaged to the man.

She learnt that when he was truly sick, he accepted her help with a bit of reluctant grace, but when hungover, he whinged like a child. She learnt that his complaints irked something fierce within her and provoked her into making his liquor-riddled headaches worse. She learnt that he fed Crookshanks when she wasn't looking to earn her familiar's affection, which she had to admit, was working a lot more than she thought it might. Having spent the better part of ten years watching Crooks hiss and scratch at any man that wasn't Sirius Black, seeing him snuggle up next to Theo without snarling had been shocking enough to make her suspicious.

She learnt that he watched her and that, strangely, his stare didn't make her uncomfortable. He was studying her the same way she studied a book or a brewing potion. Looking for things in a text that needed to be memorised for the future, or missing pieces of a potion that needed to be added. Theo watched how she fixed her morning coffee so he could—and did—replicate it later on. He watched her as she came and went every day, gauging her emotions so he could try and figure out how to help with whatever she needed.

She learnt that, despite Slytherins being thought of as very selfish people, Theo fit right in with Daphne, Blaise, and Draco—people who were selfish to an extent, but also very devoted to caring for things and people they thought of as theirs. She knew she should have felt irritated to think that someone thought of her as belonging to them, but it was oddly comforting.

She thought of Daphne, who took care of Harry in an orderly manner while somehow being able to make him smile and relax. She treated him like he was normal, which was what he needed. She thought of Blaise who joked around with Ginny, teasing and pushing her like she wasn't some fragile little thing the way a lot of men thought her to be. She thought of Draco who worshipped the very ground that Luna walked on, going so far as to learn how her mind worked when no one else could. At the same time, the Slytherins were self-preservationists. Daphne needed Harry, someone strong and devoted, and she put effort into keeping him on solid ground so that he wouldn't break when she eventually needed to lean on him.

Blaise, so used to women fawning all over him because of his money and looks, really just wanted a playmate. Someone to make him laugh and roll their eyes instead of simpering at his every move. He needed something real.

Draco, of course, needed redemption and sought it in the form of prostrating himself at the feet of someone his family had severely wronged, someone who, like him, was very misunderstood. Luna offered him salvation the way that the rest of the world could not.

Hermione learnt that Theo desperately wanted to take care of her, and on a level that was frustrating. What little she knew about his parents had made her understand that he needed to prove he was a man by being the opposite of his father, who had been nothing but an abusive, wretched excuse for a human being. At the same time, Theo watched her carefully to learn what she needed, which was often independence, as well as the desire to feel important and useful. She wouldn't say it openly, but the fact that her parents weren't allowing her to contribute to the recovery or . . . well, comfort, of her mother, was making her skin crawl. She needed to do something. So on particularly frustrating days when her parents wouldn't let her help and Remus wouldn't let her come back to work, Theo asked for help, giving her something to do, someone to take care of.

She learnt that, though he'd taken a sabbatical from going out and working, he still took daily owls from businesses and old families seeking his opinion or advice. He was devoted to his craft and became angrily frustrated when he couldn't solve a problem. She learned that he kept his office clean and organised it himself, but left the rest of the manor in the hands of the elves who he treated with respect in a calm way that left them well-cared for and still feeling useful. Hermione on the other hand often made them uneasy, though she was learning that owning house-elves was a give and take relationship. They'd give her run of the kitchen when she wanted it, if she'd let them take liberties with scrubbing down the rest of the manor without complaint.

She learnt that he was respectful of people, particularly women, which she gathered came again from his need to be as unlike his father as possible, but it also meant he was a terrible flirt and truly enjoyed getting her heart racing by stepping into her personal bubble in a way that most wouldn't dare, and then withdrawing quickly enough to leave her feeling bereft of his presence.

"What're you making?" he said one morning, approaching her from behind but making enough noise with his steps so as not to put her on guard. He practically whispered the words, standing close enough against her back that she could feel his warmth, but not enough that she felt crowded and claustrophobic. In fact, he left just enough space between them that her body naturally leaned backwards, seeking to press against him.

"Just a umm . . . salad," she said, purposely trying to breathe through her mouth so that she would avoid smelling the mint on his breath. "Oranges and jicama. It'll give you energy and you can lower the dosage on the Invigoration Draught."

Theo smiled, and she could feel his expression even without looking at him; she suppressed a grin that tried to surface on her own face when he slipped a hand around her waist and beneath her arm to pluck a slice of orange between two fingers, then leaning forward to feed himself over her shoulder.

"Mmm," he said, sucking the lingering juice off his fingers which caused her to think back to the morning when he'd caught her in bed, moments after a self-stimulating climax where he'd sucked her fingers into his mouth, tasting her. "Always taking care of me," he said with a grin and then kissed the side of her head before ducking out of the kitchen, leaving her breathing heavy over a bowl of poorly-cut fruit.

She learnt that he had a weak spot when it came to her  _not_ falling for his charms. It was difficult, of course; he was so very, very beautiful, but it made her puff up with pride when he'd say something seductive or with a heavy implication and, instead of blushing and whimpering at his words and actions, she would retaliate.

More than once she'd purposely knocked something over at breakfast in order to drop to her knees before him to clean it up, smirking to herself when she'd hear him groan as she "accidentally" bumped the inside of his thigh with her head and then offer apologies for her clumsiness. She would sit back in her seat and smile innocently while he slightly glared at her, clearly knowing that she was anything but.

* * *

Hermione learnt things about herself as well.

Like how the feel of his fingers on her skin was electrifying. How, in the morning before she opened her eyes upon waking, she would lay in bed and feel him brushing his fingers against her hair, over the curve of her cheeks, and down her jaw. She would force herself not to react as she listened to him breathing, and how each breath became sharper and heavier when she moved and stretched for his viewing pleasure. She learnt that it took a lot of effort to remind herself that this was so very new, because it felt so comfortably right.

She kept desperately quiet, trying her best not to react when she felt him push hair away from her shoulder, lean forward and touch his lips to her throat, trailing a path up to her ear where she let go of a whimper that was inching its way out of her.  _Touch me, fuck, please for the love of Merlin, touch me,_  she silently pleaded and then moaned when she felt his hand on her ribs. She let him take liberties with her supposedly sleeping body, knowing that if she made him aware that she was completely awake, that meant that she was acknowledging this growing tension between them and the desperate need to break it and give in to the obvious burning desires.

When he palmed a breast and sucked at her neck she almost said,  _fuck it_ , and mauled him. It really had been too long since she'd been shagged. The few occasional snogs they'd had since their first real kiss weeks earlier had been hot and heavy but ended far too quickly when they both tried to be mature and reasonable, pulling back before things got out of control. Now though, laying in bed in the early morning with her body still relaxed from deep sleep and Theo's hands and mouth sparking her nerves to life . . . she wanted to throw control out the window.

Like the button of a lift, when Theo's thumb circled her nipple, Hermione's thigh reacted of its own accord and lifted to rest against his hip and it took every ounce of strength she had not to rock her pelvis forward in search of contact, proof that he was as affected by her as she was by him. She didn't need physical proof, however, when Theo groaned against her skin. "Fuck. Please wake up, Hermione. I'm a rotten man who's already groped you in your sleep, but I'd desperately like some consent here," he said and then nearly pinched the pebble peak of her breast between his thumb and forefinger.

 _Say "yes" you idiot!_  her subconscious screamed.

"Yes," she whispered in what felt like defeat and victory at the same time; at least, until Theo stopped and pulled away from her.

"You're awake?" he asked, staring down at her.

She nodded, keeping her lids a little heavy to try and hide the fact that her pupils were likely blown wide with desire for him. "Have been for a while."  _Don't stop, don't stop, please don't stop_ , she thought to herself as she stared up at him.

"Oh, thank Merlin," he said before kissing her.

She grinned, parting her lips immediately and stroking her tongue against his bottom lip, silently telling him that she did not want just another short bout of kissing this morning. She wanted more, needed more, burned for more. He groaned and slipped his tongue into her mouth and her eyes nearly rolled at the soft feel of him; the taste of him. The noises he made fueled her feminine pride. As delicious as it was to have him make her whimper and moan, she had an ego to rival that of any Slytherin or Gryffindor wizard, and a need to prove that she was near perfect at anything she tried. To offer a not-so-subtle hint at some talents that she knew she could bring to their eventual marital bed, Hermione began gently sucking on his tongue, relishing the way that his breathing changed.  _Oh good, he understands_.

Her smugness fell away when she felt his fingers slip beneath her shirt in search of bare skin. No. This was a situation she needed control of. "Wait," she said and pulled away from him.

He winced apologetically and then gave her an understanding nod. "I'm sorry, I was too—"

"No," she said quickly. "It's just . . ." she sighed and summoned her Gryffindor courage, pulling the t-shirt up over her head, grateful that it didn't get caught in her hair. She closed her eyes at first, feeling the slightly cool air of the room brush against her bare chest, and waited for him to say something.

" _Oh Merlin,"_ had been the first thing Ron had said the first time they'd fumbled around in his bedroom at the Burrow after the war. The scar left behind by Dolohov was the largest and darkest by far, but the one at her throat from Bellatrix's knife was just as pronounced. Burn marks from the curses inside the Lestrange vault were smattered across her torso and the redhead had taken the blame for each of the marks on her flesh because he'd been there by her side each time, and had failed to save her.

" _It's fine,"_ she remembered saying when he refused to touch her, and the few times they'd tried to be intimate after that had needed to be done in the dark to force away the guilt he felt.

Terry wasn't as bad, though his eyes had lingered in curiosity. At the time she'd felt so terribly inadequate, leftovers from her experience with Ron. Of course, now she knew that Terry's lack of enthusiasm to bared breasts had less to do with her scars and more to do with the breasts in general.

The few Muggles she'd been with hadn't bothered looking because she refused to do anything with the lights on. If their fingers stumbled over a raised mark, they would hesitate and she'd force herself to moan louder or move a different way to draw them back in.

But this was different. Theo knew her past and would be her future. There was no hiding this.

She bit her bottom lip and opened her eyes to see him staring at her bared flesh. She forced herself not to cry as he continued to just gape at her. "Please say something. What are you thinking?"

Theo chuckled. "I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself if I tell you."

She blinked a few times in confusion. "I meant . . . the scars," she clarified

He looked up at her and raised a brow and then looked down again. "The . . ." he said and then sighed, reaching for her forearm. "We've been over this," he said and brushed his fingers against the word carved there before kissing her again, ignoring every other imperfection with sincerity that nearly had her sobbing with relief.

She pressed her hand against his chest as he trailed his fingers up her torso, ignoring her scars while she lingered on his. She didn't want his pity, and so she offered him none in return, but still mapped every inch of skin with careful consideration. She lightly bit his bottom lip at the same time that her fingers brushed his nipple and he thrust against her in reply. She nearly gasped at the feel of his hardened length against her thigh; her mouth watered and she felt the apex of her legs grow damp in response.

When he pulled away from her lips, she gasped for breath, a breath that quickly caught in her throat when the warmth of his mouth engulfed the tip of her breast. His hands wrapped around her waist, holding her against him and she felt positively devoured by the man. He kissed and rubbed and licked and then, when he sucked hard, she moaned, "Nngh!" loudly and her face turned red in embarrassment. "Theo, Theo, The . . . Oh!" she squealed when he lightly nipped at her tender flesh.

He pulled away from her and began tugging at the strings of her pyjama bottoms. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

She contemplated his words, even as his hips were pressed against her, the outline of his cock obvious and distracting as she tried to force herself to keep a calm head even as she was imagining what it would feel like to have him pistoning in and out of her.  _No, don't stop_ , she thought.  _We both need this_. But the logical side of her brain won out in the end.  _Too soon. Baby steps. Test the waters or we might drown_. "Not yet," she said and hoped that he understood.

Just in case, to prevent any questions that she'd be too shy to answer in her current state, Hermione pulled him up and kissed him hard, swirling her tongue around his to show him that she wanted him, needed him, needed him to want and need her in return. When his fingers touched just below her navel, she adjusted her hips, granting him silent permission. He pushed his fingers below her waistband and Hermione felt the tiniest amount of relief when the tips of those fingers probed at her wet centre.

He groaned, and she giggled at the sound until he thrust two fingers inside of her, drawing a gasp from her throat. Her eyes rolled as she rocked her hips in time with his motions, unable to not compare him to every other set of hands that had touched her there. Clumsy fumbling, over-eager fingers looking to prove a point, and others who didn't even bother. There was no wonder why Theo was nearly the top of their class. He studied and memorised every movement, every response, every whimper. When he touched the perfect spot inside of her, she cried out as the coiled pressure tightened and shook, desperate to snap open. He grinned against her lips in response to the noise that escaped her, and she realised that she'd  _stopped_ touching him.

Frantically, she pushed down the waistband of his pants, looking down and marvelling at the tightly formed muscles on his lithe frame, wondering what he'd look like after they were married and he was returned to his full health. She licked her lips at the same time that her palm pressed against his cock, soft velvet over heated iron. He paused when she touched him, and she waited and waited. When he thrust his fingers back inside of her, she wrapped her fingers around his erection, pressing him up against his abdomen for leverage as she stroked down and then up again, grinning as she mentally measured the length of him.

He stroked her with his fingers, and she bit his lip in reply while simultaneously touching him. His pace increased, and he started rocking his hips in time to the movements of his fingers and the faster he fucked her with them, the tighter her body became. Her toes curled, and her legs stiffened, and she silently pleaded for release before she ended up with a cramp due to the tension.

He kissed her deep once more and then pressed his palm against her swollen clit; like a cracked dam, she broke under the pressure and came against him in a cry of pleasure.

She gripped his shoulder as though he'd fly away and did her best to remain focused on bringing him off as well, even as she enjoyed the way her body pulsed around him. She rubbed her hand against his cock and smiled when Theo kissed her and groaned against her mouth, a warmth spilling out over her hand. She smirked at the feel of it and kissed him sweetly as she relished the rush of such power. Of all the magic she'd experienced, the ability to bring pleasure of this magnitude to another person was heady like nothing else. Sex, she decided, was the body's way of casting a Patronus. She giggled at the many, many jokes that could come about from the imagery.

"Oh," she said, exhaling loudly, still touching him with both hands. The one on his shoulder was massaging the tense muscle beneath it, and the one on his cock was very gently moving as he softened in her grip. "Oh, Theo. You most certainly are not going to die," she decided and laughed loudly.

Theo smirked and kissed her jaw. "What makes you think I had any intentions of letting you go?"

She smiled and cast a wandless Scourgify on them both and then brought both hands up to cup his cheeks, kissing him slowly.

"I don't know whether to first smugly relish the memory of you coming when beckoned," he said in a whisper as his hand rubbed circles on her hip. "Or praise you as the Sorceress who has so easily placed my heart, mind, and body in the palm of her hand. Quite literally."

Hermione briefly frowned and then kissed his lips once more. "Body, mind, and heart?"

Theo took her wrist and turned it to kiss the inside, just below her palm. "Did you have any doubt?"

"It scares me," she admitted nervously. "Do all witches fall so easily in love with you?"

Theo sucked in a breath and looked up at her with wide eyes. She could see him struggling, fighting the urge to put up the cold mask of indifference that Slytherins perfected in order to keep people out, hide away their vulnerabilities. He desperately wanted to be loved, to be loved by her, and was so very obviously terrified of admitting it.

"I know," she said. "I know that I'm the only one Draco asked to marry you. And Daphne told me . . . about Hogwarts."

His nose twitched in irritation but he sighed. "I'm not some stalker," he said firmly. "It was . . . I admired you. You were brilliant and beautiful and I wished like hell that there could have been an opportunity to get to know you back then. I was very angry that nothing presented itself."

"If Draco had, in fact, asked another witch to save you, you would have said no. You would have fought it harder than you fought me, wouldn't you?" she asked him as she started to truly understand.

He pressed his forehead against the skin of her shoulder and then leaned down, kissing just below her collarbone; an open-mouthed kiss that allowed him to taste the sweat on her skin. "I would have said no," he admitted. "Because I didn't want to just survive . . . I wanted to live. Hermione,  _you_  make me want to live."


	26. Chapter 26

**March 25th, 2004**

Living together had wrapped Theo and Hermione in a wonderful little bubble that often shut out the rest of the known world, encasing the two of them and making time irrelevant as they fell into step with one another. Despite their exploring hands and explosive climaxes only occurring the day before, they'd broken the dam that had been their logical need to reserve some sense of propriety in an evenly paced—though still quick—courtship. After the blissful awakening, they relaxed in one another's arms, and Theo breathed in her scent, letting it lull him back to sleep.

When they woke for the second time and forced themselves out of bed after a good twenty minutes of thorough snogging, Hermione made breakfast while Theo dealt with the morning post. Once both tasks were completed and a healthy meal consumed, he dragged her down a long stretch of hallway and into—of all ridiculous things—a broom cupboard.

"I never got to do this at Hogwarts," Theo huskily whispered as he pulled her t-shirt up and over her head, exposing her breasts which he was officially addicted to, even after just the one taste. He kissed her deep, pressing her back against the wall—ignoring the fact that his  _actual_ broom had been jostled in their frantic movements and was, at present, digging its footgrip into his leg.

"I never did either." Hermione pulled away from him and unbuttoned his shirt with speed and precision to reveal the expanse of his chest. "It's Hogwarts. That's just . . . disrespectful," she said, laughing when he pressed his body against hers and nipped at her throat.

"Our home is just fine though?" he asked with a chuckle against her skin. "No disrespect there."

 _Our home_.  _Ours_.

She threaded her fingers through his hair as his hand slipped inside her jeans. "Oh, lots of disrespect," she said, lifting her leg and setting her foot on a shelf behind him, offering better access as his fingers expertly rubbed, stroked, and teased her. "This home used to belong to a Death Eater. And now his son and only heir is fingering a Muggle-born in a broom cupboard."

The frantic movements stopped, and Theo worked every touch with slow, calculated movements. He leant forward and pulled the lobe of her ear between his lips, biting gently before whispering, "Technically, this home  _still_ belongs to a Death Eater."

"Semantics." Hermione waved him off, closing her eyes and moaning as he hit a particularly sweet spot inside of her.

He marvelled at her, still shocked that she didn't see his Dark Mark and recoil from it in horror. If anyone had the right to . . . but  _she_ didn't. Nor did she deny his participation in the past like some might, and often, did.

He knew, for a fact, that Adrian Pucey tried to have the tattoo removed in the Muggle world; when that had not worked, he refused to ever be seen in short sleeves or loose robes that might reveal it with casual movements. Draco often pretended the past didn't exist. He worked alongside and was friends with the most famous Muggle-born ever and married to a woman who, still to this day, wore a charmed Galleon as a necklace with the letters "D.A." engraved on it. War heroes, both. The times Draco was harassed in public, he rolled his eyes as though the insulters had stupidly mistaken him for someone else. Only when in the comfort of understanding friends did he ever mention the past, and even then only when it seemed necessary—or he was properly pissed.

Theo never ignored the past. He embraced it as a part of his life, accepted it, regretted it, and sought to make amends when possible. Hermione, however, acted as though that wasn't necessary. He was a Death Eater, sure, but it was just a part of him that needed no further introspection. No more so than the fact that he had brown hair and blue eyes, or that he was a Slytherin or a Nott. There was nothing special about being a former Death Eater. The Mark might as well have not been there at all the way she ignored it. He wished like hell  _he_ could ignore it as easily as she did. Wished he could accept himself as easily as she was.

"' _Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace,'"_  he whispered in her ear as his free hand palmed and then squeezed a breast, memorising the feel of her skin and the way her body immediately responded to him.

She grinned and exhaled shakily before saying, "' _My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting r-ro_ —Oh!— _road!'_ "

Theo smirked. "I don't recall asking for audience participation."

Hermione laughed. "This is hardly a one-man show, Theo."

He kissed her lips again, swallowing her laughter before pulling away and whispering against her mouth. "' _Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows, and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.'_ "

"Ache? Mmm . . . I could help with that," she said, attempting to touch him.

"This is about you," he said, swatting her hand away from his trousers.

"You play the poet, the seducer, and the gentleman all while—oh god—doing th-that," she stammered as he strummed her like a finely-tuned instrument. "But you're not so perfect, Theo Nott. Something tells me you're hiding away your selfish side, your  _darker_ side, as though I'll go running if I see it." She took his face in her hands. "I won't."

He stared at her, his fingers still moving.

"Not always a poet, no," he admitted after a long moment. "And yes, I will be selfish, very,  _very_ soon I imagine."

To test the waters in regards to this inner darkness she suspected he had—and he did—he whispered, "Soon, I will selfishly devour you, tasting these pretty pink parts that only my hands have explored thus far."

Hermione whimpered, and he felt her flutter around his fingers in response.  _Well, that's interesting_ , he thought to himself as he began to wonder how far he could get away with the lack of sweet words meant for tender ears, and instead give verbal descriptions to his darker desires.

Going for broke, he reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip, thrilled when she kissed the digit. "Soon, I will selfishly allow this sweet mouth to devour  _me_ ," he said, pressing his hips against hers to make sure she got the message.

Her coming apart at  _those_ words was delightfully unexpected.

 _Fuck_ , he thought to himself as he removed his hand from her jeans, holding the quivering witch in his arms as she came down from the incredible high.  _I'm going to have to pay Draco back for giving me this woman_.

The rest of the day was spent lazily reading books in the library, making plans with friends for the weekend, and snogging in the breakfast nook where Hermione returned the favour, showing Theo how useful  _her_ hands could be.

* * *

**March 26th, 2004**

"You're less angry than when I saw you last," Blaise noted as he leant his broom against the wall to tighten the laces of his trainers. "You get laid already?"

Theo scowled at his friend, his grip on his own broom tightening as he looked out over the large field that Blaise's Rec League used to play the occasional game of Quidditch. Occasional meant at least once a month or whenever Blaise felt like calling people together, and dating a professional Chaser meant often because he had a desperate need to try and keep up with the witch on an athletic level.

Somehow Blaise and Ginny had both manipulated Theo and Hermione into coming. Hermione had agreed only because she would remain firmly on the ground as a spectator—and his designated Healer. Theo would be playing Seeker, which he declared was a "safe" position.

" _I'll be out of the thick of things. Up in the air, looking for a tiny little ball," he told her when she worried for his health and safety. "It's the Chasers and Beaters that get the worst of it, I promise."_

_She scowled at him and crossed her arms in a stern way that made him awkwardly think about having children with her, but he shook away the thought before all the blood drained from his face and she started making a bigger fuss thinking he wasn't well enough to fly._

" _I'll have you know that I paid close attention to Quidditch in school, and Harry ended up in the hospital wing all the time. He almost fell off his broom first year!"_

" _It was a cursed broom if Snape screaming in the common room was anything to go by," Theo pointed out with a grin, remembering the way his former Head of House had actually stomped through the dungeons swearing up and down that if any of them were caught trying to kill "Dumbledore's new pet" they would be cleaning cauldrons until graduation._

" _Harry broke his arm second year when he was hit by a Bludger."_

_Theo snorted, finding memories of Potter getting injured far too amusing. "Which would have been easily fixed had that idiot Lockhart not attempted to fix it."_

" _He fell off his broom third year!"_

" _Do you see dementors flying around here?" he asked, gesturing to the field which was covered by a perfectly cloudless, blue sky._

" _Sixth year he took a Bludger to the head, and it cracked his skull."_

_Theo outright laughed, remembering that game and then bit his lip to try and hold back his amusement when she looked like she might hit him—if he wasn't dying, that is. "Okay, I'll give you that one, but I'm still flying. If you want, I'll catch a Snitch for you."_

_She huffed and pouted. "And why would I care if you did that?"_

" _Because when we go to Malfoy Manor for dinner tonight, you can rub it in Draco's face."_

_That won her over almost instantly._

"Not that it's any of your business," Theo said, glaring at Blaise. "But no, I didn't 'get laid.' And when Hermione and I  _do_ engage in proper marital relations—as is expected considering we're to be bound in less than a month—I'll hardly be telling you any details, you ridiculous deviant. What a man and his witch do in the privacy of their home is just that . . .  _private_."

On the other side of the field, Hermione leant back in her seat and watched as Ginny adjusted her gloves. "That man's fingers are a bloody national treasure, Gin."

"Good for you!" Ginny said with enthusiasm. "Didn't I tell you that Slytherin boys were fun to play with? But no, you wanted my brave Gryffindor brother and then that Ravenclaw you dated that last year at school. The one who lives with Neville now."

"Terry."

"Terry! And what did you tell me? Ah, yes, your intellectual conversations are positively . . .  _titillating_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I never said that. Terry was smart, but he was hardly titillating."

"'Cause he didn't like tits, now did he?" Ginny said with a smirk. "Theo on the other hand?"

"Seems to be very pleased with them," Hermione said with a shrug and then smiled softly. "He didn't see my scars."

"You glamoured them?" Ginny asked, frowning. "He'll have to see them eventually 'Mione. You're going to be—"

"I didn't," Hermione said. "I didn't glamour them. He just . . . He didn't  _see_. Like he was looking past them. He doesn't care. Doesn't care that I'm . . . blemished by war."

"Well, so is  _he_."

"Not for long," Hermione said with a deep sigh. "I'm going to save him. I'm going to marry him.".

"If I didn't know any better, Hermione Granger, I'd think that you were in love with your future husband."

Hermione ignored Ginny's teasing. "Have your Beaters take it easy on him, please. We're having dinner with Draco and Luna, and I'd really like him to not have a head injury, forcing me to put up with the pair of them on my own. You know how they get with an  _audience_."

There were no head injuries.

It was a relatively safe game where Theo did, in fact, catch the Snitch, which made Hermione more excited than she was willing to admit out loud lest she ruin her reputation for despising the ridiculous sport.

The entertaining portion of the actual game came when Blaise accidentally hit Ginny with a Bludger, nearly knocking her from her broom.

"What the fuck, Blaise?!"

"It was an accident. Besides, you're a professional. You're supposed to be able to dodge Bludgers sent by us  _mere mortals_ ," he said in a mocking tone.

Ginny glared at her boyfriend. "If I  _actually_ get hurt, I won't be able to play  _real_ Quidditch, and then you'll have a team of Harpies trying to stick broomsticks up your arse!"

Blaise hovered near her on his broom, ignoring the other players flying around them. "First, this  _is_ real Quidditch. Second, I'm used to dealing with  _harpies_ ," he said, pointing his finger at her, "and third, if you want to invite your team into our bed, it'll be my 'broomstick' shoved up  _your_ —Ah!"

Ginny flew straight for him, fire in her eyes, and leapt from her broom to his, sending them both to the ground where she shoved his face in the grass.

He rolled her over, pinned her to the earth, and tried to make her eat clumps of dirt.

"Weirdest foreplay ever," Theo said as he landed next to Hermione, holding out a fluttering, golden ball in his hands to her. "M'lady. Your prize."

She smirked and took the Snitch then glanced down at her engagement ring. "Your presents seem to be getting less impressive," she teased him.

"I knew I set the bar too high with that bloody thing," he said, putting an arm around her as they walked off the field, listening to Blaise screaming behind them as bat-shaped bogeys began flying out of his nose.

* * *

When they arrived at Malfoy Manor, Draco met them at the fireplace as they exited, a narrowed gaze on his pointy face and a slip of paper in his hands.

"Greeting us yourself?" Theo asked. "I thought you enjoyed having house-elves do that sort of thing. I suddenly feel very special. Lord of the Manor here to take my coat."

"Look what Theo caught me," Hermione said with a bright smile, flashing the Snitch in Draco's face. "He's a very good Seeker. Did you know that? Best Seeker I've seen in a very long time. Might even be better than Harry, and  _everyone_ knows that he was the best Seeker of our age." She was practically bouncing on her heels as she watched the blond's jaw tick at the sight of the little golden ball.

"Trade you a Snitch for a credit card bill," Draco finally said, turning glaring silver eyes up at Theo.

"That was fast," Theo replied.

Draco handed the paper over, and Hermione took a peek, smiling at the printed out copy of the receipts of everything she and Theo had purchased on their date at Harvey Nichols and John Lewis.

"Care to tell me what the hell a toaster is?"

She looked up at the blond and smiled. "It's a machine that makes toast."

" _Elves_  make toast."

"So do machines."

"You people are savages."

Theo grinned. "I took her shopping—"

"Technically,  _I_ took her shopping," Draco interrupted.

"—to get her things for the manor. Make her feel more at home," Theo said and smiled as he kissed the top of Hermione's head.

"She's turning you into a  _Muggle_ now?"

Theo laughed. "Says the bloke in Muggle jeans."

Draco pulled back his robes with a flare that Snape would have approved of, revealing his tailored jeans. He put a hand on his hip defiantly as he stated, "These are Armani."

Hermione smiled cheekily. "Muggle Italian designer is still Muggle, Malfoy. How'd you even get this?" she asked, picking up the credit card statement.

"The Muggle credit place saw strange activity on my account and reported it to the bank. It was picked up by the Gringotts liaison, who reported it to the Goblins, who owled me this morning," Draco said, snatching the paper back from her. "They wouldn't take care of it, though, and  _I_  had to go into Muggle London, track down this stupid store—and I didn't even know it  _was_ a store—and demand to know what had happened!"

Theo and Hermione shared a chuckle.

"It's Muggle London, you've been there before," Hermione said.

Draco scowled. "Luna came with me."

"Oooh."

"She told the manager of the store that it would be beneficial to keep the white wine closer to the feminine hygiene products because Nollywhatsits apparently enjoy a good drink before breeding season."

Hermione burst into hysterical laughter.


	27. Chapter 27

**March 26th, 2004**

With Draco's temper tantrum out of the way, they were led through the large manor by Swishy, who arrived offering a glass of wine each to Hermione and Theo. They had accepted graciously but refused to drink. When Draco eyed them with a smirk and drank down a full glass of his own, Hermione rolled her eyes and called him a lush.

"Where's Luna?" she asked, setting the glass down on a nearby table. "If I have to put up with a Malfoy, I'll choose flighty and pregnant over annoying and pointy."

"She's in the herb garden on the terrace. Luna and I thought we'd all have dinner under the moonlight to celebrate—" He gestured between the pair of them with a mildly interested smirk on his face. "—new romances."

"You say that like this wasn't your plan all along," Hermione retorted.

"Theo living? Certainly. Marrying  _you_? Last resort."

She grinned at him. "I know the truth. I know I'm the  _only_ one you asked, and that you did it because you didn't just want to see Theo live, you wanted him  _happy_. You, Draco Malfoy, wanted your best friend to live and be happy with a woman who wouldn't want him for his money. Someone he might actually want in return."

"No 'might' about it," Theo insisted.

"I think that you've become a closet softie and romantic, Malfoy," Hermione said with a chuckle as she made her way to the doors leading to the terrace, pulling Theo behind her.

Draco said nothing in response but held his hand out silently as Swishy refilled his glass of wine, watching as Theo and Hermione stepped outside. "One . . . two . . . thr—"

"Draco!" Theo snapped as he burst back through the door to find Draco smirking up at him, leisurely sipping his wine. "Your wife is on the terrace clipping herbs from her terracotta pots . . . naked."

"And?"

"And? Where are her clothes?"

Draco smirked, licking the rim of his glass as a drop of wine clung to it. "I've hidden them. She said the exposure to the lavender bushes is beneficial to the baby, and this just makes the contact a little more visually stimulating for me."

Theo watched as Draco stepped past him through the door, watching with amusement as Luna stood, bathed in nothing but moonlight and the red reflection coming off of Hermione's cheeks as she tried to explain the magical properties of mint.

"Gods, just look at her," Draco said joyfully.

Theo sighed. "Trying to  _avoid_ that actually." He winced a bit as he cracked his eyes just a sliver to see that Hermione was trying to coerce the witch into a cloak. "Can you please have her dressed before we begin to eat?"

Draco scoffed, offended, as though Theo had just called a piece of fine art "trite." He made a face at him, shaking his head in disappointment. "You're such a prude, Theo," he said as Hermione led Luna over to them, wrapped in a cloak with fresh sprigs of mint in her hands.

Hermione made a snorting noise in place of an argument at the insult to Theo, and Draco seemed to pick up on it immediately, letting a devious grin cross his face as he turned and stared at Theo, who glared back at him in reply. "You and I are going to enjoy a drink later."

The drink, of course, implied conversation.

"Not firewhisky or butterbeer," Hermione said coolly.

"Yes,  _Mum_ ," Draco replied in a mocking tone, wincing when she flicked him in the ear.

Luna smiled serenely up at them. "You won't like the firewhisky anyways. Draco slips Veritaserum in it," she said, beaming up at her husband as though she found his illegal tampering with potions to be endearing.

Draco brushed off her words. "I did that  _once_ , love, and it was over a year ago." He leant forward, brushing his nose against Luna's neck and breathing her in, an act that felt far too intimate to be done in front of friends but was nothing that either Theo or Hermione wasn't used to from the pair.

* * *

Swishy served a six-course meal of foods that were—for the most part—appropriate for Theo's diet thanks to Hermione having asked Pixy to communicate with the Malfoy house-elves. Over a parsnip and leek bisque, Malfoy ranted about the insanity he was being forced to deal with at work since Hermione was forced to go on leave.

"I had to deal with a house-elf abuse complaint yesterday. Showed up at the home with an Auror to arrest the bloke, who was obviously guilty. The man looked at me like I was there to defend  _him_ ," he said with a scowl on his face. "And then the wretched little creature hugged me—bloody  _hugged_ me—until I had to ask it's mistress to hand it a bloody sock. I don't know how you put up with this nonsense every day, Granger."

* * *

While Draco and Hermione enjoyed duck confit risotto, Luna took a seat beside Theo and placed his open palm on her swollen stomach. "Physical contact is good for healing," she told him, either ignoring or oblivious to the initial discomfort he had at touching her.

"I hardly think I'll be healing for you or the baby," he muttered.

"Not  _you_ ," she said brightly. "The baby. I think he'll be very good for you."

The unspoken request for Theo to be godfather was left in the air, but still, he swallowed down the rising emotions and nodded his acceptance, leaving Draco looking pleased and Luna joyful.

* * *

Theo eagerly ate the stuffed chicken breast and vegetables, and Hermione ignored every bit of conversation in exchange for witnessing her future husband eating like a healthy individual instead of forcing down food in order to appear polite, knowing that it would later make him sick.

She wondered if Draco knew about the changes she had made to help ease Theo through the worst of his symptoms.

She wondered if Draco knew how lucky he was to have been saved from the curse before he'd even known it existed.

* * *

Neither Theo or Hermione ate the polenta and mushroom ragout because watching Draco feed it to Luna put them off their appetites to the point that when the small salad showed up, they ate quickly in hopes of departing that much faster. Draco and Luna weren't known for starting something without finishing it, public or not.

* * *

When Swishy brought out plates of Tiramisu, Hermione's cheeks warmed, and she looked up at Theo.

He shrugged his shoulders innocently, glancing across the table at an ignorant Draco, who was trying desperately to convince Luna to feed him, which she indulged.

" _We_  don't look like that, do we?" Theo whispered.

Hermione cringed. "God, I hope not."

* * *

After dinner, Theo and Draco retired to the study. Draco sipped firewhisky, and Theo held a glass of it in his hand, swirling the liquid with mild curiosity. "Go ahead, get it over with. I know you've been holding it in all night."

"I'm not so crass to ask details of your sordid sex life, Theo."

He shook his head. "It's not what you think. We're just . . . Can I talk to you without you being an arsehole about it?"

Draco looked offended. "Why would I be an arsehole? You're my best mate."

"Because the last time we talked  _properly_ about Hermione, we were in Hogwarts. You were a prick, and we ended up in detention when Snape caught you throwing a cauldron at  _my head_ ," he pointed out. "Something about me being a blood-traitor with a Mudblood fetish."

The blond looked down, jaw tight. "We were  _all_ arseholes when we were that age," he said, barely a whisper.

Theo felt strangely happy that, all these years later, Draco still looked guilty over it. Somehow, it made it seem easier to deal with him and his past and still want to marry Hermione. "She thought I wouldn't want her. That I would see her scars and cringe at the sight of them instead of basking in the softness of her."

"I'm pretending that you're talking about a woman who I don't work with," Draco said firmly. "So, what  _did_ you do when you saw the scars?"

"I ignored them. She was . . . Fuck, Draco, the look on her face. I think she expected me to reject her. Even if I didn't think she was beautiful—and she  _is_. . . you have no . . . How could I reject her for something so superficial? When she's bloody perfection."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shut up. She's not perfection."

Theo swirled the firewhisky in his glass and smelt it before setting it down on the desk in front of him. "You and I . . . we lived our lives in darkness, utterly blind to the world. She is light personified and is, therefore,  _my_ perfection. She is good and fair and merciful and gracious. She's throwing her life away on someone as utterly broken as me, and all I can do in exchange is love her for it. It'll  _consume_ me, but it won't be enough as far as I'm concerned. She is too good."

Draco stared at him, looking slightly shocked by the confession. "The woman does have flaws, you know," he pointed out. "She broke my nose third year."

"Good point. She's also funny and has an amazing right hook."

"You really do, don't you?" Draco scoffed, not specifying the actual question.

Theo thought about it for a moment. "How long did you wait for retribution against the Ravenclaws that used to bully Luna back in Hogwarts."

Looking regretful, Draco sighed heavily. "Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst. Did you know they used to steal her things? They were the ones that started calling her names too. Pushed her around a bit for fun," he said angrily. "After I realised . . . When I knew I  _loved_ her, that I was going to marry her one day, I had both witches bankrupted within the week. Lisa works at a Muggle coffee shop as a barista now. Mandy cleans up owl shit at the post."

Theo stood and cracked his knuckles. "So, you understand then."

Draco swallowed down the rest of his firewhisky and took a deep breath. "Slytherins take care of what's theirs; what they  _love_ , " he said with a nod, looking a bit nervous. "I imagine I'll get the benefits of being your best friend?"

"I'm glad that you and Hermione are friends now. I really am. But you  _did_ make her life pretty much hell at school for at least six years."

Draco clenched his fists and squared his jaw in anxious anticipation. "I did."

Theo smiled.

"You really do love her, don't you?" Draco asked a moment before Theo punched him in the face.

* * *

Outside, looking over the garden on the terrace, Hermione sighed, relaxing. "Your herbs are coming in quite well this year."

Luna smiled sweetly and brushed her hand affectionately over a Snarfalump plant that returned the loving gesture with one of its tentacle-like leaves. "It's a good time for growth. The earth takes new form and births life from the ground. All sorts of creatures re-populating," she said, stroking a hand over her stomach. "Did you know that when baby thestrals are born, they're invisible even to those who have seen death? They only change after their first feeding. I don't think they're quite the omens of death people think they are. I see them more as evolution of life. All new things are innocent, and then we feed and become what we are. Feed on food, experience, life, magic. It's growth."

Hermione smiled at her friend. "Growth is good."

"You and Theo are growing together very well," Luna commented with a sly grin.

"I worry that it's . . . too fast."

"It's only natural to give in to one's desires, Hermione. We're all animals. Humans created society, and society, in turn, demanded structure and rules. Not very nice of it, making demands of its creators."

"The physical . . ." Hermione rubbed her face. "It's not that. All things considered, I think the physical aspect of our strange arrangement is proceeding at a relatively normal pace."

"He feels it too," Luna said. "And I don't think you're moving fast at all. In fact, according to  _my_ schedule—" She looked up at the stars as though she were consulting a calendar. "—you and Theo are right on time."

* * *

"I can't decide whether or not to scold you for resorting to violence so easily, to be offended that you thought I  _needed_ to be avenged, or turned on because you punched Draco in the face," Hermione said in a fit of giggles later that night when they returned home and crawled into bed, slipping beneath the cool black sheets.

Theo grinned at her. "The last one. And you could start rewarding me by kissing my sore knuckles," he said, holding his hand out to her teasingly. "He has a very sharp face."

She laughed louder and did, in fact, kiss his knuckles. "Poor Theo. You really shouldn't have done it, though."

"Slytherin tradition. Draco expected it to be done at some point," he said with a shrug, running his fingers through her soft curls.

She sighed and relaxed against his hand, closing her eyes as he played with her hair.

"You don't have to wait until I fall asleep." At her questioning glance, he smiled softly at her and took her hand, pulling it toward him and placing it palm down on his chest. "You don't have to wait."

She smiled shyly. "It's still new. I don't . . . Sometimes it feels like I've known you for a very long time. Like this shouldn't be as easy as it has been. I feel like I need to ask permission to—"

"I'm giving it," he said, interrupting her. "I'm yours."

He watched her swallow and felt her hand shaking just a touch as her fingers brushed against his bare chest.

"Me too," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her, but he  _did_ and took her at her words.

Sitting up, Theo wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly up against him, breathing in deep when both of her small hands braced themselves against his chest. "Feel my heartbeat up close then. I rather like having you near me." His fingers drew circles against the skin of her lower back that had been bared when her t-shirt rode up as he'd moved her.

"Do you . . . ?" she began to say but hesitated, biting her lower lip. "Do you think that . . . maybe one day you could grow to love me?"

Shocked by her words and the vulnerable tone with which she expressed them, Theo contemplated blurting out his thoughts like a reckless idiot but then held back. No. Their marriage had been arranged under terrible circumstances, but he had tried so  _very_ hard to make everything else real. A real proposal, a real first kiss. He wasn't going to just jabber out a confession of love randomly. Still, she looked like she needed reassurance, so he leant in and gently kissed her, trying like mad to communicate with words he didn't yet have, hoping that she spoke the language.

When they parted, he kissed the corner of her mouth and then whispered. "I could do that."


	28. Chapter 28

**March 27th, 2004**

When Theo had gone to bed, his arms were full of witch, and his hands buried in honey-brown locks of soft hair. He held Hermione in the night like a lifeline—something to keep him from drowning. He was only slightly ashamed to admit how badly he needed her to keep him afloat.

He tried not to think about what kind of mess he would be in had Draco not been a pushy and intrusive son of a bitch. Then again, he'd seen Pucey before he married Daphne's sister. The man had barely made it to the altar. Theo had forgotten what he had looked like so close to the end—so close to the time running out. Glamours hadn't even been enough to hide away the gauntness of Pucey's face or the sickly grey colour of his skin.

Back when Theo had all but embraced his inevitable death, he hadn't given much thought to what the actual process would be like for him, but now, with hope in his arms, Hermione's nose brushing against his neck in the middle of the night, he couldn't think about anything else other than how fucking grateful he was that she had taken pity on—no . . . had taken a  _chance_ on him.

When he slowly woke in the morning, his arms were no longer full of witch, but his hands remained buried in that sweet and soft hair, though a good half a foot south of where he'd expect them to be. Blurry-eyed, Theo tried to focus on what was happening with a logical mind until a wet warmth engulfed his cock and logic went right out the bloody window.

He made an indelicate grunting noise and then looked down, pulling the black sheets back to reveal the most beautiful sight in the world.

"Sweet fucking—Hermione . . . I—Oh, fuuuuck . . ." he groaned, praising Godric  _fucking_ Gryffindor for bestowing the Sorted descendants of his House with a need to prove their unparalleled bravery in all things.

He fisted the sheet in one hand, the other hovering over her head, wanting to touch, wanting to grab her and hold her and thrust in her mouth but knowing better. Not only would it be an incredibly rude way to repay the witch's  _abundant_ generosity, but he remembered Draco's cautionary words regarding Pansy and  _teeth_.

There was a slick popping sound, and Theo felt cool air around his erection. He glanced down to see Hermione staring up at him with a smug look on her face that would rival that of any Slytherin he'd ever met.

"Good morning," she said sweetly.

Theo laughed and threw his head back into the pillow. "Good morning, she says," he uttered breathlessly and ran a hand through his hair. "Dare I risk momentary heaven and ask what brought this on?"

"We're going to visit Ron and Pansy for lunch," she pointed out. "I thought we could both use something to distract ourselves with when things inevitably become awful."

Theo groaned at the thought of dining with Weasleys again, even if it was just Pansy's little brood, but then he smirked and looked back down, noticing Hermione seemed quite comfortable where she was, cheek pressed against his thigh.

"And  _this_ is a memory that you want to use to distract  _yourself_? I'd have thought you would rather make a request of my services instead."

There was a glint in her eyes, and Theo smirked at her.

"Are you complaining about my technique?" she asked. "Because I'd be  _more_ than happy to switch places."

"Your technique is perfect." She beamed at him, and he rolled his eyes. "I should say it's a little disturbing how easily you get off on praise, but seeing as I'm the one reaping the benefits, I think I'll keep my mouth shut other than to award ten points to Gryffindor."

"Ten? Is that all?" she said teasingly before taking him in her mouth again, causing his body to stiffen in a wonderful way that left no pain lingering behind.

"Twenty . . . Fifty . . ." he said in between moans, letting his hands finally bury back into her hair with gentleness, waiting to see how she would react. When she continued moving over him, he rocked his hips a little in time with her movements, something that earned him a moan from her; the vibrations from the sound were enough to end him. "Hermione, I . . . I'm going to . . . "

* * *

When they Apparated to the front porch of the small Weasley home, she  _still_ looked smug.

Pansy opened the door, took one look at Hermione's confident grin and Theo's relaxed demeanour and groaned knowingly. "Ugh, gross. You're having sex already."

Theo laughed, and Hermione blushed, muttering out a slurry of objections as Pansy snatched the pudding tray out of her hands.

"This better have something chocolate in it," Pansy said, peering beneath the cover. "Monster-in-law says I'm not allowed to have chocolate. I'm going to kill whichever old bint started feeding her these new age type pregnancy books. Most of them are Muggle, you know. I think she's just looking for excuses as to why all of her  _own_ spawn turned out so fucking awful."

"I'm awful now?" Ron asked as he approached, Artie slung over a shoulder.

"Always," Pansy said with a smirk before kissing him quickly and then waddling away, tray in hand.

"C'mon in, 'Mione," Ron said and then glanced at Theo. "Why do  _you_ look so happy?"

Theo smirked.

"Never mind. I don't want to know. It's bad enough I have to listen to my sister talk about shagging her snake boyfriend. I don't need to hear 'Mione doing the same."

"As if I'd tell you," Hermione said indignantly.

* * *

For as fancy as their dinner the night before at Malfoy Manor was, lunch with Ron and Pansy was a typical Weasley event with food set out like a free-for-all. No elves to clean and serve. Instead of a naked Luna found wandering the garden, they had to deal with a sore and irritable Pansy, who plopped her feet in Theo's lap when dinner was done and they'd all retired to the sitting room.

"Earn your meal," she told him. "Rub."

Theo made a face. "Get your husband to do it."

"I can't because he's going to soon make some lame excuse to steal away your lovely bride and double-check to make sure you haven't been torturing her with your wicked Death Eater ways while the rest of us turned a blind eye." Theo slightly stiffened at the words, and Pansy ignored him, poking him in the stomach with her big toe.

"Pans," Ron groaned. "I don't think he's  _torturing_ her."

"He  _might_ be," Pansy said, leaning back in her chair and smiling when Theo started rubbing her swollen feet. "I'm guessing she'd  _like_ the type of torture he'd inflict though. Theo always was handy with a Body-Bind Curse."

Ron's face turned bright red. "Pansy!"

"I bet Granger just  _loves_ a good spanking."

Ron made a loud groaning noise and grabbed Hermione's hand, dragging her down the hallway. When they were gone, Theo pinched Pansy's pinky toe. "Was that necessary?"

She giggled, shaking him off of one foot and nudging with the other. "He mistakenly implied that I was  _fat_ this morning. He's a cunt," she said affectionately, "and I've decided to make every minute of today hell for him."

"And you're using  _me_? For the record, you are pregnant and that in itself implies that you've put on a few—" He stopped speaking when the heel of her foot pressed against his groin.

"Finish that sentence, sweetheart, and I take away Granger's new favourite toy."

* * *

"And you're okay?" Ron double-checked. "I know Pans was doing it just to rile me up, but . . . well, he  _was_ a Death Eater, and he's best friends with Malfoy."

"Who is actually one of my friends now," Hermione reminded him. "Just because Draco is still a prat doesn't make him evil. And Theo's . . . I'm okay, Ron, I promise. I'm . . . I think I'm actually happy." She smiled brightly, using what skills she had in Occlumency to separate the thoughts of Theo from the thoughts of her parents to keep herself from dwelling on the bad parts of her life. "It's stressful and strange and new but . . . it's nice. It's really, really nice."

He raised a brow. "You actually like him? This isn't just a—"

"No. We kind of promised each other that despite how the marriage came to be, we were both going to jump into it and try our hardest to make it real. Ron, it's real."

* * *

They showed up at Grimmauld Place later that night after leaving Ron and Pansy's and taking a calm stroll through Diagon Alley so that Hermione could pick up a few more ingredients to restock the potions lab. The front door opened, and Daphne smiled at the couple, pulling them each in for a tight hug.

"Theo you look so . . . Are you still wearing glamours?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Just a few, but Hermione's been taking good care of me," he said and affectionately put an arm around his witch.

Daphne hugged Hermione again practically dancing on the spot. "Come in, come in. Harry's finishing up a few things in the kitchen, and Teddy's in the living room."

"Teddy? Lupin's kid?"

Daphne nodded as she ushered them inside. "Harry is Teddy's godfather, so every few weeks he spends time with us. Usually, the week before the full moon so that Remus and Tonks can have some time alone together."

Hermione laughed when Theo raised a brow. "The week before the full moon is when a werewolf's . . .  _energy_  is at its peak," she explained while smirking.

"She means Mum and Dad are shagging," a small voice said from the end of the hallway.

"Teddy!" Hermione said reproachfully. "Who taught you to talk like that?"

The little boy laughed. "Uncle Sirius."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Figures."

Theo smiled as a large black dog walked in behind the child. "Oh, you have a dog," he said to Teddy, kneeling down to be on level with both the boy and the animal. "Is he nice?"

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of Padfoot, and she quickly stepped in between Theo and the mangy creature. "He  _better_ be," she said, glaring down at the Animagus who seemed to share a similar mischievous gleam in his eye as Teddy. "Teddy. Take Padfoot outside until dinner's ready, please."

She was so annoyed that she could feel her magic prickling at the ends of her fingertips as she watched Harry smirk across the table from her while Padfoot whined and cried with his head in her lap until she scratched behind his ears.

The damn dog had been at it since they'd walked in the door, and she was absolutely certain that Harry was in on the joke. Daphne too. She had half a mind to send Howlers to Fred and George, who might have even given the old Marauder the idea. Only little Teddy was left blameless because it wasn't  _his_ fault that she and his father were the only  _proper_ adults in his life. Then again, there was a high chance that Remus was in on this little prank as well.

Harry and Daphne were supposed to be their normal friends.

They'd gone with Ginny and Blaise knowing that putting the two of them on opposing sides of a Quidditch match would likely end in bloodshed. Draco and Luna were predictably inappropriate at dinner. Ron and Pansy were their typical selves, slightly rude and blunt about everything. But Harry and Daphne were supposed to be  _normal_. Not  _pretending_ to be normal while Harry's godfather-turned-mongrel begged for tummy rubs from an unamused Hermione, and Theo raised a brow and said things like, "Just because he's not a cat doesn't mean he couldn't use a little love."

When Padfoot jumped on the table and stole Theo's steak right off of his plate, Hermione nearly went for her wand as Harry tried—and failed—to stifle his laughter. "C'mon, 'Mione. Padfoot's just making friends with your future husband. You know how he likes to meet new people."

"He's going to get neutered the next time he tries something," she warned, forcing herself not to laugh at the situation lest she make it seem like she approved of Sirius's little game.

Beneath the table, Theo put his hand on her knee which earned him a snarl from the black-furred beast who was gnawing on his steak next to Teddy's chair.

Hermione chuckled, ignoring the noise, and reciprocated Theo's gesture by putting  _her_ hand on  _his_ thigh.

* * *

"You okay?" Theo asked Hermione after taking her into another room while Harry and Daphne cleared plates away. Teddy, always eager to help, was right there with them but the dog had followed Theo and Hermione when they'd left the dining room.

"I'm fine," she said.

Theo tilted her chin to look up at him. "You're a liar," he said and kissed her chastely. "I can tell something's up, and I'm not entirely sure what it is, but I have a feeling that it's between you and your friends so I won't push." He brushed a hand through her hair and smiled when she relaxed against it. "Whatever it is, it's stressing you. It's my job to make you happy, so will you let me know what I can do to make you happy?"

"Kick the dog?"

Theo laughed. "Other than animal cruelty?"

"No. You're perfect," she said with a smile, swatting Padfoot away as Theo laced their fingers together, walking her back toward the other room.

Minutes later Padfoot disappeared—"He's probably in one of the rooms upstairs," Harry had said—and Sirius Black walked in the door, grinning at Hermione.

"This must be Theo Nott," the man said as he approached. "I've heard a lot of things about you, boy."

Theo stood tall and extended his hand. "Hopefully good?"

Sirius shook hands with him and curiously eyed Hermione over Theo's shoulder. "Some good, some bad. Nothing that isn't said about any other Slytherin in your year."

"I'm hurt," Daphne said in a mocking tone.

Sirius grinned at her. "You're special, sweetheart," he declared and then turned his focus back on Theo as though appraising him, which was annoying because Hermione knew he'd already been doing that all night. "I think," Sirius said with a smirk, "that you'll be a right proper match for our Hermione."

"You hungry, Sirius?" Hermione asked knowingly. "You just missed dinner."

"I'm good. Snatched up a big steak earlier," he said with a smirk and squeezed Theo's hand just a little tighter as Teddy broke into laughter behind him.

Theo raised a curious brow and looked the man over for a moment. "Funny. I happened to  _lose_ one earlier. Animagus?" He turned and looked at Harry and Daphne, who were both smiling and nodding their heads. "I suppose this was some sort of . . . initiation?"

Sirius laughed and clapped a hand on Theo's shoulder. "Hermione comes with a lot of baggage, mate. If you can put up with the lot of us, you can handle her I think. You like firewhisky? Harry, pour us all a glass and let's toast the happy couple."

Theo smiled politely. "Water for me," he said, looking at Hermione. "I'm trying to cut back."

Sirius raised a brow. "She already put a leash on you. Careful, mate. If you let a witch control too much, she'll suck the life right out of you."

Theo walked back to Hermione while Sirius went to the liquor cabinet to help Harry pick out a properly-aged whisky. Hermione took a breath when she felt Theo's lips brush her ear. "So, should I be a gentleman and ignore the 'sucking' comment? Perhaps focus on the fact that you're actually putting life back  _into_ me?"

She smiled, blushed, and kissed his cheek.

* * *

With Sirius in the living room chatting Theo up about Quidditch or something else that Hermione hadn't paid attention to, she sat in the study nervously looking up at her best friend.

"Are you okay? Is he treating you nice?" Harry asked.

She smiled, shaking her head incredulously. "You and Ron. Forever my protectors."

"Hardly. More the other way around. Always has been." He took her hand, squeezing it affectionately. "It's just in our nature to worry about you."

She briefly pondered his words, knowing that he was telling the truth. He worried. Ron worried. Even  _Sirius_ worried, which was likely why he put Theo under the "Padfoot test" during dinner. Make sure the future husband doesn't have a short temper. Theo had gracefully passed, and when he'd laughed over the incident, Hermione was able to chuckle at it as well, seeing the good-natured humour behind Sirius's antics. Then again, Theo didn't have Draco's temper.

She looked up and sighed as she saw Harry frowning. He really  _did_ worry about her. She opened her mouth to tell him about her mother, needing to tell someone else other than Theo and Remus, but she stopped.

 _No_ , she thought.  _There's nothing even Harry Potter could do to fix this. What would be the point?_

She carefully turned the hand he was holding so that her scar came into his line of vision and he flinched.

Hermione sighed softly. "Oh, Harry."

"Sorry." He frowned, looking away ashamed. "It sucks remembering that I couldn't save you."

"You saved us  _all_. Scars don't define us," she said, rubbing the lightning bolt on his head. "Not to the people that matter."

He nodded sadly and leant his head against hers. "I'm sorry. I'm an arsehole, aren't I? If I've ever made you feel—"

She squeezed his hand. "We all cope differently. I don't think any of us really did so in a healthy way, but here we are. Theo doesn't care about them. My scars, I mean."

Harry pulled back and raised a brow. " _Plural_? I've seen most of your scars, Hermione, and they're usually covered," he said and teasingly gestured to her torso.

She smirked. "Well, we  _are_ living together."

"Ick." Harry tried to pull away from her, but she held onto his grip and laughed. "Can't you talk about that stuff with your girlfriends?" He flicked his hand as if he could shake her off of him like a brother who was annoyed with his sister giving him cooties.

Hermione held on tight and smiled, pulling his entire arm into her clutches before leaning her head on his shoulder. "He doesn't care about them. Doesn't even see them. Doesn't look at me like I'm a Muggle-born or a Mudblood or a war heroine. Hell, he doesn't even look at me as his ticket to survival, though he brings it up conversationally on occasion. I'm just me. He makes me feel  _normal_. Like I could have a normal life with a normal family."

Harry frowned. "He's still . . . Hermione, I don't judge what he and Malfoy and the others had to do in order to survive during the war. We all did things that . . . But it  _won't_ be normal. People might still—"

"I don't care. People can say what they want. They can—and will likely—spit at us in the street. Muggle-borns and Death Eaters aren't supposed to mix, I get it, but . . . at home? And can you even believe that I think of that place as  _home_ already? It's normal. We sleep in, we make breakfast, we answer the post, and read books together. I think . . ."

Harry stared at her, green eyes twinkling. "Wow," he whispered. "Daphne was right."

"What did she say?"

"That you'd fall in love faster than you'd know how to handle."

Hermione blinked away a few tears. "It's weird. It's really scary."

"Scary," he said with a crooked grin. "You do remember riding a dragon out of Gringotts, don't you?"

She laughed and punched him in the arm. "Shut it."


	29. Chapter 29

**March 28th, 2004**

He woke with his skin itching. Itching like something was trying to uncomfortably dig its way out of him.

Theo had woken before Hermione, downed his daily potions and the Muggle painkillers that were keeping him sane, and then crawled back in bed, wrapping his arms around the witch who had managed to tangle both of her legs in the twisted black sheets of their bed.

He smiled at the way her hair was unkempt, even this early in the morning. Wild and untamed and looking like the aftermath of a perfectly decent round of shagging. They hadn't, of course. Not yet. But that didn't mean that fingers and hands and mouths hadn't thoroughly explored one another with desperation and need.

His skin itched.

Itched for her like a scratch he'd never be rid of.

He watched as she tried to move within the tangles of the sheets, restricted by her own tossing and turning that had forced the black silk into tight ropes, pinning her thighs and waist to the bed, trapped there by the force of her own body. She looked like a sweet little animal, caught in an unsuspecting tangle of weeds, and he, the hungry predator, watching over her.

Tempted to grab the sheets and tug, pull her closer to him where he wanted to rip away her clothing and enjoy her the way a normal fiancé would, Theo kissed her awake. "Hermione," he whispered as he gently pulled her free of the constricting sheets. "Wake up, love."

After quick—and separate—showers, Theo made his way down to the breakfast nook, waiting for Pixy to bring his meal. He sipped at his morning tea, something he was glad to be able to enjoy again thanks to Hermione's efforts with his medication, and looked up at the sound of the door opening. Instead of his head house-elf, his future bride walked through carrying their morning meal, a single bowl of . . . strawberries? And . . . and a jar of . . .

"Honey?"

"Yes, dear?" Hermione replied with a coy smirk, and the itching sensation began rolling beneath his skin again.

She sat down, not on the seat beside him, but on the table in  _front_ of him.

Theo moved his chair back a bit to allow her room, watching with a heated stare as she pulled herself up and sat, adjusting the faded t-shirt of his that she slept in. The shirt was so large on her that it usually came to the middle of her thighs, but sitting up as she was, it barely covered her arse. His gaze lingered over the jar of honey, noting that it was the same colour as a variety of strands in her hair and a touch darker than the sun-kissed skin of her thighs.

She moved to cross her legs, and he let out a soft moan.

She wasn't wearing knickers.

"Hungry?"

Theo winced and placed his hands in his lap. "You've no idea, love."

She smiled at him, a honey-covered strawberry between two fingers, the open jar in the other hand. She brought the fruit to her lips, licking away at the dripping, sticky fluid, and bit down. The devious glint in her eye made him wonder if either Daphne or Ginny had given her this idea. He watched in near perfect silence as she continued to feed herself, staring at him.

She was tempting, too tempting, and he knew she was doing it all on purpose.

Who knew Gryffindors could play games like this?

"You're a funny little witch, aren't you?" he asked as she dragged her tongue across her own bottom lip, licking away red juice that lingered behind from the berry she'd devoured. When she raised a brow at him as though she had no idea what he was talking about, he clarified, "Are you trying to tease? Lure out the sweet man with sweet things? Because I never thought of you as a woman to overindulge in things, Hermione."

He smiled when he heard her breath catch.

"Maybe," she said and swallowed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I've had a bit too much  _sweet_ this morning."

He watched her breathe. In and out, quick and yet heavy breaths that moved the fabric of his t-shirt, rubbing the faded lettering up and down and across her skin.

"What would you like instead, pretty witch?" he asked, his voice deep and husky as he stood slowly, enjoying the fact that her legs uncrossed automatically as he stepped between them, moving like a stalking version of the lion that she was supposed to be, instead of the little lamb she was right then. "Sour? Spicy? Salty?"

He grinned when he saw her eyes drop to his belt.

"Yes," she breathed. "Anything you want to feed me."

Theo chuckled, feeling that itch again. "Who said  _I_  would be feeding  _you_?" He felt a surge of adrenaline when she looked up at him, an almost panicked expression as his hand snaked up between her breasts and pushed her back while gripping her thigh with the other, smiling when she lay back on the table, limbs shaking in obvious trepidation.

He kissed the inside of her knee, even as his hands drew circles on her hips, a subtle and silent way of communicating that he had every intention of moving north, but at  _his_ leisure. He kissed softly as he moved, only pausing once to remember that she didn't want sweet. That was the whole point, wasn't it? And so, without warning, he roughly nipped the inside of her thigh and sucked hard enough to leave a mark. No one would know it was there but them, and he had every intention of reminding her that it was there, up until it faded, at which point he planned on duplicating it.

_His._

She was  _his_.

She'd signed a contract saying as much, and he silently promised to remind her at every opportunity. Not of the contract, no, but of the by-product that came with purposely tying herself to him. There was darkness, yes, she'd seen it and said so herself, saying that she wasn't afraid and wanted to see him, all of him. She'd insisted that all darkness wasn't evil, and he remembered the way her eyes lusted over when he'd spoken filthy words instead of poetry in her ear. She understood. Understood the parts of him he kept from view of everyone else. She understood and desired. Wanted him—all of him—knowing that he'd never hurt her. Not really. And not unless she asked  _very_ nicely.

He pushed her thighs apart and listened closely to her anticipatory inhale. He let his heavy breath ghost across her skin, staring into the heat of her set like a feast before him as he whispered, "You are so very, very pretty."

He chuckled as her back arched off the table the very second that he lashed his tongue against her.

Hermione spent the early morning thrashing and whimpering, crying out on the table as he bit his fingers into her thighs and hips to hold her in place, even as she shook and shivered and bucked against his mouth, crying out things that he was certain she'd be embarrassed about later, praising him and Merlin and Circe and a handful of deities he was fairly positive didn't exist.

Sucking at her clit while she cried and came, Theo was certain that if marrying her, bonding himself to her, wouldn't him from dying, the very taste of her would be life sustaining.

In the aftermath Hermione took several minutes to catch her breath while he stroked his fingers lazily against her calf, leaning his cheek against the inside of her knee. "Can we just stay here all day?" she asked, letting out a satisfied chuckle that put a smug grin on his face.

"No can do, love."

Hermione pouted. "Why not?"

He kissed her knee again and smiled against the skin. "Because your parents and the Weasleys are coming for dinner," he reminded her, laughing when he heard her curse under her breath for having forgotten. "And, you need a bath," he added, gesturing to the jar of honey that had tipped over about ten minutes earlier due to her movements, spilling out onto the table and soaking into the bunched up fabric of her t-shirt.

* * *

The itch didn't go away.

Not with a breakfast of Hermione, not with a hot shower after, not with potions or with an actual meal that came later in the middle of the day. And he was stupid for not telling her, but she was stressed about the dinner, so he kept it all to himself.

They'd offered to connect the Floo for Hermione's parents, that or Apparate, but with Helen's illness being unpredictable, she and Richard elected to drive, regardless the distance. Because of the inconvenience, Theo insisted that they stay the night, and Pixy was more than happy to set up a suite for them in the same wing as Hermione and Theo.

They wanted a meeting of the families before the wedding—a chance for everyone to get to know one another. Since Theo's mother was dead and his father was in Azkaban, he had no family of his own save perhaps for his friends, but there was no way in hell they were going to allow Draco and Luna to mingle in close quarters with Hermione's parents. Some of the other couples could have been more appropriate, but in the end, Theo extended an invitation to dinner to the Weasleys, knowing that they were just as involved with raising Hermione as well . . . Hogwarts was.

Helen and Richard arrived and excitedly asked for a tour of the manor as though it were a museum of sorts, clearly having not been properly prepared for such a large home.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were less impressed, and the witch had even said, "What do you even  _do_ with all this space?" with a perplexing look on her face as though she just didn't comprehend. She was, at least, nice about it, even when Helen squealed like a schoolgirl when Hermione showed them all the library.

Dinner was already set out, family style like the Weasleys often had, by the elves prior to everyone arriving in the dining room. Hermione didn't want Arthur and Molly to see any of the house-elves, though she still planned on introducing her parents to a few during their stay over, in an attempt to see if her mother would accept the offer of help.

Theo had already prepped Tick, an older elf who specialised in cleaning and cooking, telling him the situation and smiling proudly when the elf bowed and said, "It would honour Tick to serve Mistress's parents."

They sat around the table, smiling and laughing, and Theo took Hermione's hand as the two other couples toasted them, Mrs Weasley stopping to chuckle at Mr Weasley, who was positively glowing with joy over drinking the Muggle beer that Hermione's father had brought with him.

"This is so very lovely, Hermione," Mrs Weasley said. "Though the two of you didn't have to go to the trouble. I would have been more than happy to have everyone over to our house for dinner. A wedding to plan . . . You shouldn't have fussed over us."

"Yes, they should," Richard said with a laugh. "The boy's marrying my only daughter. I could use a little fussing."

Theo smiled and kissed Hermione's knuckles, overjoyed to see her so relaxed with everyone laughing and smiling and talking about simple things like how moist the chicken was or the process of brewing Muggle beer or wedding plans—okay the wedding conversation was less than simple, but it still wasn't awful.

"Where will the wedding be?" Helen asked.

"Here," Hermione said. "I was thinking in the garden actually," she added with a soft, almost shy smile.

"What's that about?" Helen asked, pointing to the blush on Hermione's cheeks.

"Nothing," she said, brushing off her mother. "It's just . . ."

Theo smirked. "The garden is  _special_. We had our first kiss after a walk around it." Of course, it hadn't exactly been a walk around the garden, but more of Hermione collapsing into his arms in a fit of sobs, standing while rain poured down on them in thick sheets.

"Our first  _real_ kiss," Hermione whispered.

It was toward the end of the meal when Theo felt the itch again, this time more painful than before, and he struggled to keep it from being noticed by everyone, Hermione specifically. Thankfully, she was distracted by her mother, who was happily telling the Weasleys stories of their days at University, the other couple completely enthralled in the tales.

Someone cleared their throat, and Theo turned to see Pixy standing in the doorway looking embarrassed to be disrupting the dinner. "Master?"

Helen made a squeaking sound, and Molly let out a loud sigh of obvious disapproval. Hermione just looked embarrassed in general and offered an apologetic glance to everyone at the table before turning her attention to Theo and the elf.

"It's all right," she said. "Yes, we have house-elves here, and they are treated quite well. I've insisted that they let me help around the house, of course," she added, and Mrs Weasley smiled in approval.

"Is something wrong, Pixy?" Theo asked.

She nervously wrung her hands together. "Pixy is sorry to be interrupting," she said, stepping into the room and glancing at the other couples, her large eyes lingering on Hermione's parents before returning to Theo. "Master and Mistress has several letters."

Theo sighed irritably. "I'll take care of them later."

Pixy cleared her throat. "Missy Pansy Wheezy sent a red one."

He groaned.

"Pansy sent us a Howler?" Hermione asked, eyes wide.

Mrs Weasley jumped up, clearly panicked. "Oh goodness, is it the baby? Do we need to get to St Mungo's? It's too early though! I told that girl she should  _not_ be eating celery!"

"I'm sure everything is fine, dear," Mr Weasley said, trying to calm his wife. "She's given birth before."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Hermione said. "Pixy please bring the letter here."

"Have your parents seen a Howler before?" Theo asked, watching as Hermione suddenly looked worried.

Pixy snapped her fingers, and the shaking red envelope appeared on the table in front of them all. Before it had the chance to explode—and possibly injure either of his future in-laws, Theo tore open the envelope, wincing as Pansy's screeching voice boomed out of it like a Sonorus Charm.

"HAVE YOU SEEN IT? THEO! YOU'RE IN THE BLOODY  _EVENING PROPHET_  AND I SWEAR TO MERLIN AND MORGANA AND FUCKING SALAZAR HIMSELF I WILL FIND WHICHEVER ONE OF THEM DID IT AND FLAY THEM ALIVE!"

Helen and Richard stared at the sight of the screaming envelope, eyes wide.

"HOW DARE THEY IMPLY THAT—No Ronald, I  _don't_ know where your bloody socks are, can't you see I'm busy? I'm writing a fucking letter to Theo, what the fuck does it look like I'm doing? Because I don't  _know_ where the regular parchment, is and my feet are too fucking swollen to get up and search the bloody house for it,  _that's_ why! All I could find was the Howler paper. Yes, I realise that it's a bit rude and you know what  _else_ is rude? Questioning the mother of your child while she's upset because her feet and back hurt and your baby has its foot stuck in her ribs and the Prophet is run by a bunch of cunts—"

Mrs Weasley gasped and fell into Mr Weasley's arms.

"—who think it's perfectly acceptable to—Oh, I don't have time for this. THEO, HERMIONE, I'LL BE SENDING ONE OF THESE TO THE PAPER, YOU CAN BET ON THAT!"

Silence filled the dining room.

Theo's headache returned in full force.

"So . . .  _that_ was Pansy," Hermione said, looking at her parents who looked like they would have been laughing if the Weasleys didn't look so horrified.

Theo sighed. "Pixy, please bring us the paper."

She obeyed with a heavy sigh and brought a copy of the paper and also a stack of letters, handing them to Hermione.

"All our friends read it before we did," Hermione said as she flipped through each of them. "Daphne said Harry tried to fire-call us but forgot that we closed the Floo to give us privacy for tonight's dinner. And Ginny is threatening to stand outside the Daily Prophet offices and protest." Theo looked over her shoulder, noting that Hermione had purposely left out the fact that Ginny had  _actually_ said she would do it naked to draw as much attention as possible. He figured that Hermione left that part out because Mrs Weasley looked to be upset enough.

When he turned his attention back to the paper, he felt bile rise up in his throat. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like he wanted to cast an Unforgivable.

Hermione pried the paper from his hands and snarled down at the title that spread across the front page:

_HARLOT HERMIONE TO MARRY DEATH EATER TO UPSTAGE POTTER WEDDING_


	30. Chapter 30

**March 28th, 2004**

Her parents were livid. Arthur was shaking his head in disappointment as though the  _Daily Prophet_  was just another one of his children that had let him down one too many times. Molly was making choking sounds, eyes wide as she took in the headline, naively shocked that such language was being used in the press.

Theo was enraged and looked like the true Death Eater the world thought he was.

The Death Eater he, technically, had been.

Hermione was the only one to not care that much about what the press called her; she was more angry that they had implied she was trying to steal Harry and Daphne's attention. She folded the paper in half and tossed it into the centre of the table, reaching for the glass of water in front of her.

"Oh, Molly, I've been meaning to ask if you'd be willing to part with some of your recipes for the wedding? I know you'll want to help in some way, but cooking for everyone would just be too much. I would, however, love the recipe for that cake you made last year for Ginny's birthday party; it was heavenly."

Everyone looked up from the paper, gaping at her.

"What?"

" _What_?!" Molly shrieked.

"Are you truly not going to do anything about this?" her mother asked, shocked. "Hermione, this awful paper called you—"

"A harlot, yes, I can  _read_ ," Hermione snapped. "It's hardly the worst thing they've ever referred to me as, and at least it's consistent," she added with a slightly bitter tone. "The  _Daily Prophet_  has been making me out to be a gold digging, fame seeking—" She paused to look at Molly before correcting her language to something more . . . palatable. "—scarlet woman since I was fourteen."

"What do you mean since you were fourteen?" her father demanded.

Hermione rolled her eyes, desperate for a glass of wine but refusing to drink it in front of Theo, who was still forbidden from partaking—though he looked like he was due a shot of firewhisky himself. She took his hand in hers, hoping to calm him. All the action did, however, was make him cling tightly to her fingers as though she were the only thing keeping him from committing homicide.

"Rita Skeeter used to write awful things about me. It started during the Triwizard Tournament when she thought I was Harry's girlfriend. When I went to the Yule Ball with Viktor, it became a scandalous love triangle where I was misleading both famous wizards," she said in a slightly sarcastic voice as though she were mockingly narrating the audiobook for a bodice ripper.

"After the war, it was all about how I broke Harry's and then Ron's heart by apparently playing them against one another, never mind the things they insinuated we did while on the run from Voldemort," she hissed, temper flaring a bit at the memory. "Frankly, I'm shocked that this is the worst of it. The  _Daily Prophet_  tried to tell the Wizarding World that I was having an affair with Draco Malfoy the day after his wedding to Luna, for Merlin's sake. I'm surprised the only thing they came up with was that I'm marrying Theo to upstage Harry's engagement to Daphne."

The parents all sat, silently stewing over the article while Hermione picked at the remaining food on her plate with one hand, the other still gripped in Theo's.

"Is there nothing you can do?" her father asked, face still red with anger.

Hermione shook her head. "The reporter that used to spread lies about me hasn't written a word since just after the war. She called my bluff, and she really,  _really_ shouldn't have. I had information on her and had been using it as leverage to keep mine, Harry, and Ron's names out of the papers. She was the one who wrote the first article after the war and she ended up serving a year in Azkaban when I turned her into the Ministry for being an unregistered Animagus."

"So then who is writing all these awful things about you?" Molly asked, reaching for the paper. "Just anonymous? This is ridiculous. Arthur, I'm cancelling my subscription. This is the last straw!"

Hermione smiled at the woman who had made the threat plenty of times over the years, only to cave and buy the paper again in order to follow up on other bits of news unrelated to gossip. "I know who it is. The reporter is an old rival from school who's still bitter about a few things. And I know her  _source_ as well. I'll write a few letters tomorrow and see what I can't do about fixing this. We'd planned to announce the engagement soon anyways," she said, turning to Theo. "I think we'll speak with  _Witch Weekly_  instead though, don't you agree?"

His eyes were closed, and he was forcefully taking in slow, deep breaths.

"Theo?" Hermione whispered. "We knew this would happen."

He shook his head. "I knew they would say things about  _me_. . . and maybe they'd . . . I wasn't prepared."

Hermione frowned. "It means nothing to me."

"It means something to  _me_ ," Theo said and stood. "If you'll all forgive me, I need to step away for a . . . I need to step away." He offered apologetic looks to all of their guests and then kissed Hermione's hand before pushing away from his chair and leaving the room.

Hermione wanted to go after him, but a look from Molly and her mother's hand grasping her own kept her in place.

"Give him time, dear," Molly encouraged.

Meanwhile, her father had retrieved the paper, reading more than the headline. Every few sentences he would scoff and roll his eyes. "Is there  _any_ amount of truth in this?" he asked, looking up to meet her gaze.

"Perhaps," Hermione said. "Theo  _was_ a Death Eater. Everything else, I imagine, is speculation. And the bit about wanting to steal attention away from Harry's wedding is pure nonsense."

Molly nodded her agreement. "Now that I think about it, I  _do_ remember there being an issue with Harry and Daphne in the paper after  _their_ engagement. There was some—" Molly turned a bit red as she whispered, "—hogwash gossip being spread that Daphne was in a family way."

"Pixy," Hermione turned to the elf, who was still lingering by the door. "Would you be a dear and bring us some tea? And maybe take some to Theo as well?"

Pixy smiled and nodded her large head, vanishing away and reappearing a moment later with a large silver tray, full tea service upon it with scones and clotted cream as well. "Would Mistress like Pixy to serve?"

Hermione shook her head. "You know better than that," she said with a soft smile, and Pixy chuckled at her as she began to pour. "Would everyone like milk and sugar?"

"Honey and lemon, if you have it," her mother said with a smile.

Pixy cleared her throat. "We is all out of  _honey_ , Mistress," she said with a knowing glance.

* * *

Theo never returned to the dining room, and Hermione apologised to everyone, though both her parents and the Weasleys insisted they understood his anger over the situation. Apparently, his little outburst had endeared him to everyone all the more.

Molly and Arthur were walked to the fireplace before Hermione turned and smiled at her parents, offering to show them to their guest room.

"This house is so beautiful, Hermione," her mother said as she walked into the large room, running her fingers over the soft comforter on the bed before her attention was distracted by the attached balcony that looked out over the gardens.

"You can stay as long as you like," Hermione insisted, whispering her words more to her father, as her mother was still protesting anything that interfered with her independence. Her father, at least, seemed to contemplate anything offered to assist them during this time in their lives. During this  _trial_.

He kissed the top of Hermione's head in gratitude.

"If you need anything, my—er . . .  _our_. . . Theo and I are just down the hall there, the double doors at the end of the hallway. You just turn left and—"

"We'll be fine, sweetheart."

Hermione nodded nervously. "But if you need anything, anything at all just let me—

There was a tiny pop, and an elf appeared in the centre of the room. "If theys need anything, theys be letting  _Tick_ know," the old elf said firmly. "Tick is honoured to be serving the Mistress's parents, he is." His tone held steel of finality, as though if they didn't let him properly serve, his very honour was at stake and  _that_ would not be tolerated.

Hermione stared at Tick, a soft smile on her face as she remembered that Theo had promised to find an elf in their service who would be willing and able to assist her parents if they allowed it. Something told her that her parents no longer had a choice in the matter.

"Thank you, Tick," she said with a gentle smile. "Please don't over exert yourself. If you do such a thing, I'll be forced to  _pay_ you."

Tick glared at the suggestion and then looked to Hermione's mother and father as though he were waiting for them to make the same type of threats. When, instead, they just stared at him with a bit of curious shock, he nodded and smiled, bowing his head. "Theys calls for Tick when theys be needing things," he said, making sure that they both got the message before he popped away.

"You get used to them," Hermione offered before kissing both of her parents goodnight, shutting their door and making her way to the bedroom she shared with Theo.

She closed the door behind her, noting the pitch black of the room. Flicking her wand to light the lamps, Hermione peered at the still full cup of tea by Theo's side of the bed. She removed her outer robes and walked toward the bathroom, wondering if Theo was inside. Finding the room empty, she frowned and moved to her side of the bed, depositing her robes over the end of a chair in the corner, her eyes drawn to a shadow on the balcony.

Opening the doors, she frowned at the sight of Theo sitting alone, arms crossed in front of his body while he rocked back and forth. "Oh god," she muttered and rushed to his side. "I thought you were just angry but . . . Theo, how bad is the pain?" she asked, mentally cursing herself for not seeing that he'd been suffering.

"I don't know . . . it was . . . all day a bit but then . . . then it burned. I can't get it to stop. Took the pills right after I left the room," he said, clenching his teeth.

Hermione wiped away the tears that quickly built in the corners of her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, pulling his head gently against her chest as she kissed the top of it. "I'm so sorry, love."

Slowly, she helped him to stand, wincing as he grimaced in pain.

Once inside, Theo leant against the nearby wardrobe while Hermione ran the bath, throwing in a mixture of salts and oils with accuracy and attention as though she were brewing a potion. Once the steaming water smelled adequate, she returned to the bedroom and frowned as she reached up to cup Theo's face, leaning up on the tips of her toes to gently kiss him.

"Not your fault." He didn't fight as she began to unbutton his robes, pushing them over his shoulders and letting them fall to the floor to pool at their feet. She knelt before him to pull off his shoes and socks, gently tugging the fabric as he hissed in pain, and then turned her attention to his buckle and trousers, pulling them down his legs and letting her fingers brush lightly across his skin in a soothing way, purposely redirecting her gaze as she helped him to remove his pants.

Theo looked mildly embarrassed as she assisted lowering him into the bathtub, but a reproachful glance from her had him nodding his head in humble acceptance as though he could hear her silent protests that he allow her to help him.

Without another word, Hermione pulled her blouse up over her head and snaked her fingers behind her back to unclasp her bra. Theo watched as she undressed before him, too pained and fatigued to be able to react the way he looked like he wanted to—to maybe finish what they had started early that morning.

"Did I ruin a surprise?" he managed to ask with a small smirk when she dropped her jeans, revealing cream coloured lace knickers.

Hermione smiled at him and removed the scrap of fabric. "Scoot forward," she said, ignoring his question as she stepped into the water behind him. Running her fingers over the wet skin of his back, she urged him to relax against her body.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she quietly asked as she ran a soaked flannel over his shoulders, hoping to wash away his aches and pains. She purposely ignored the warmth that spread across her belly as his fingers brushed over her knee.

Theo sighed. "I hate it. I understand why your mum fights you, I really do. It's embarrassing to need help. It hurts to need you so much."

She dropped the flannel in the water and wrapped her arms around him from behind, pulling him tight against her body. She breathed a sigh of relief when he pressed himself to her, his head tilted to the side, cheek against her breast. "Please don't be embarrassed. We have at least the next one hundred years with one another, Theo, and I'm certain that we'll have much worse moments than this."

He kissed the wet skin of her breast. Instead of a heat burning between her thighs at the now familiar action, she felt a tightening in her chest that nearly had her gasping for breath as he curled into her embrace. "Not much longer now," she said softly, raking her fingers gently through his wet hair. "I think I would marry you now, Theo, if it would take away your pain."

He shook his head. "You deserve a wedding. Proper."

"You don't deserve to suffer," she argued.

"Agree to disagree."

She sighed, her gaze landing on the Dark Mark, blurred beneath the surface of the water. She remembered each and every time she'd seen it, branded into the skin of Death Eaters.

First, a darkening mark upon her former Potions Professor's skin in the hospital wing following the Triwizard Tournament, then again in the Department of Mysteries on Draco's father's arm and the others who sought to kill them all that night. She'd seen it on occasion throughout the war, especially the last year, on the run with Harry and Ron. She'd watched as Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy had fought over which of them would be the one to summon Voldemort when she and her two best friends had been caught by Snatchers.

And then the final battle.

And after.

Staring at the lineup of Death Eaters, young and old. On the elder men and women—some bound in chains and others merely bodies awaiting the morgue—the Mark looked angry and hideous, this evil thing that penetrated skin and soul and sucked away the life and joy in the world. On the skin of the  _young_ Death Eaters, it looked . . . horrifying. Fresh, new, and dark as night laying against skin and souls that still seemed innocent to the world compared to their elder counterparts.

When they displayed anger, she could see the Death Eaters in the boys. She saw it earlier when Theo had stormed away. She had seen it many times over the years working with Draco. But they always fell back to a state of awkward innocence. Draco in the presence of Luna, and Theo . . . now with her.

She ignored the Dark Mark beneath the water, instead choosing to focus on the small beads of moisture on Theo's long eyelashes. His eyes had closed, and he breathed heavy against her, finally relaxed and sleeping in her embrace. She reached for her wand on the side of the tub, casting a quick Warming Charm on the water, not yet ready to wake him.


	31. Chapter 31

**March 29th, 2004**

Hermione woke in Theo's arms, smiling as he pressed his lips against her neck and collarbone, working his way down to her breasts and lavishing them with the same reverent attention he had given them the night before in the bath they'd shared. She had kept them in the water, letting him rest against her body as long as possible. Only when her fingers were sufficiently pruned, did she gently wake Theo and help him to bed where they both fell into a deep sleep.

She chuckled softly when he put his weight on her, long arms wrapped completely around her ribs. His head rested in the valley between her breasts, breathing deep as she pressed the inside of her thighs against the outside of his hips, not paying much attention to the implications of their positions.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, trailing her fingers through his hair, slightly sticking up in places from having gone to bed wet.

"Better," he said, sitting up on his knees and elbows and kissing a line from her sternum to her throat, ending against her lips.

Hermione whimpered at the feel of him, her skin igniting almost instantaneously with every touch. It wasn't until she felt his morning erection—hard and heavy between his legs—brush against the apex of her thighs, that she remembered they had both gone to bed completely naked.

At the feel of him, she gasped, and Theo pulled away, having obviously felt the touch himself.

He stared down into her eyes, looking for a sign of hesitation or anything that would signal one way or another as to how he should proceed. She looked nervous, chewing the inside of her cheek as she stared up at him. Not like a virgin ready to be deflowered, nor in any way afraid of him, but almost as though she knew she was holding something back.

And he knew it too.

He swallowed hard, feeling a strange anxiety building in his chest. He wanted her, was  _desperate_ for her, but there was something else. Something he knew he wanted to say— _needed_ to say—but his body was almost shaking with the fear of being the first to open his mouth. He figured he had a reason; falling back on Slytherin tendencies that told him to hide away his weaknesses and vulnerabilities. +

Remembering that the first time Draco had admitted his love for Luna, the man had owled him from Hogwarts, raging drunk on smuggled firewhisky from Hogsmeade and had been so horrified that he'd made himself so vulnerable that he was contemplating quitting school and running away to France.

"Tell me," Hermione whispered, looking like that infamous Gryffindor courage was failing her.

"I . . ." he started, staring into her eyes and realising that he was oddly grateful that death was coming for him because he felt lucky that she was there. If not for the Mark—the curse—would she have been there in his arms? Too many  _what ifs_  battled around in his head and he sighed, falling back on a safer path.

" _'If you feel that you are destined for me,'"_ Theo whispered, " _'with implacable sweetness. In me all that fire is repeated. In me nothing is extinguished. My love feeds on your love.'"_  He licked his lips and forcing himself to keep her gaze even as she looked like she was attempting to blink away the rapidly building moisture in her eyes.

" _'Beloved, as long as you live, it will be in your arms without leaving mine.'"_

She let out a shaky breath and whispered, "Yes."

He kissed her, pressing his lips softly against her own, gently coaxing them to part so he could taste her again. She moaned into his mouth, and Theo's breath quickened. He pushed one of her thighs, spreading her legs further as he reached his hand between them, rubbing his fingers against liquid heat and groaning at the speed and depth of her arousal.

He was tempted to lavish her with more attention, focusing on her breasts, stomach, and thighs; he had a plan to kiss her ankles at some point—just because he hadn't yet—but the throbbing ache inside of him begged for relief and so he positioned himself against her entrance, never taking his eyes off of hers.

Hermione gasped when he stroked the tip of his cock against her.

Wanting to draw it out as long as possible but still touch, Theo ran his length between her folds, slickening himself with her arousal. Her lips parted, and her eyelids closed when he rubbed himself against her clit, circling her entrance but not yet penetrating it.

"So wet for me," he whispered, relishing the  _feel_ of her. Still testing the waters, he duplicated the movement, again and again, the ridge of his cock repeatedly clipping against the swollen bundle of nerves. He gazed down as a deep flush moved up her body, over her pert breasts and neck and settling in her cheeks.

She placed her palm against his chest and, somehow, the small touch was enough to edge him closer and closer; he hesitated thrusting inside of her, knowing he wouldn't last this early in the morning, not with how sexy she looked and how wet she was. He could only imagine how tight . . . But he was young, and his refractory period was short, especially with her panting beneath him, quivering at his touch. Theo continued to push and rub, massaging the outside of her cunt with his length, letting the tip of him grind against her nerves every few seconds. He shifted his rhythm every few strokes until she was gasping and shaking and everything burned between them, set deliciously on fire.

"Please. Please. Th-Theo," she whimpered, breath caught in her throat, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

At the sound of his name on her lips, he ducked low and captured a nipple between his teeth, giving it a firm but gentle bite. Suddenly, she was crying out, pressing her body tightly against him. Wanting to feel her rapture for himself, Theo thrust two fingers inside of her and rubbed only once before her walls fluttered like a quickening heartbeat before pulsing and sucking, pulling his digits deeper into her as if her body knew it wanted— _needed_ —more of him.

Not one to be more spectator than participant, Hermione reached between them and gripped his cock in her small hand and squeezed. Two strokes was all it took before he thrust and groaned, muttering, "Fuck, Hermione," under his breath and spilling hot seed across her belly.

Breathing hot and heavy against one another's mouths, Hermione leant up and kissed him slow, chuckling softly.

"That was funny to you?" he teasingly asked, a relaxed grin on his face.

She kissed him again and smiled. "Let me guess. That wasn't the first time we had sex?" she offered, remarking on his game revolving around their first kiss.

Theo laughed, pressing his forehead against her chest, genuinely caught in a moment of pure joy. "No, I wouldn't say that was the first," he admitted and kissed under her jaw, distracting her as he reached for his wand to clean her stomach.

"Mmm. This is where you're supposed to tell me what it will be like when we  _really_ have sex for the first time," she said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She tilted her hips in a teasing way, and already Theo could feel himself stirring again as though the sweat caught between their bodies was a Lust Potion made specifically for him.

"Since you asked so nicely," he muttered against her lips and reached down, hiking her thigh over his arm. He was far too eager to bury himself as deeply inside of her as he possibly could, desperate to feel her body clenching down on his cock instead of his fingers.

Hermione giggled, moaned, licked at his lips, and then screamed when the sound of a house-elf's  _pop_ filled the room.

"Pixy doesn't be looking!"

Theo jumped back to cover the pair of them, and slipped off the edge of the mattress, bringing the black sheets down with him, leaving a completely naked Hermione sitting up in the centre of their bed, trying her damnedest to cover herself with her hands.

"Pixy is sorry," the little elf said, hands over her eyes. "Pixy wouldn't interrupt Master and Mistress's breeding time—"

"Oh God," Hermione groaned.

"Don't call it that," Theo insisted.

"—but Mistress's parents are awake and are in the Potions Lab."

"What?" Hermione asked, eyes wide. "Shit!" She jumped out of bed, instantly forgetting her modesty as she reached for her robe and a pair of jeans hanging over the edge of the dresser. "Pixy, can you go down and—?"

"Pixy has already warded the cabinet and the cauldrons," the house-elf said, finally peeking through her fingers to glance at a dressed Hermione.

Theo, who was kneeling at the side of the bed, had his head pressed between both forearms, praying for a Time-Turner.

Hermione ran around the side of the bed and quickly kissed him. "We're finishing this later," she insisted before rushing out the door.

* * *

With Pixy's help keeping her parents from touching anything dangerous, Hermione had a few extra seconds to throw her hair up into a messy bun, using a half-arsed Sticking Charm to keep in in place so she didn't look thoroughly dishevelled when she greeted them. She quickly made her way down the stairs toward the Potions Lab, unaware that she was barefoot until her toes hit cold tile, and she let out a small yelp of shock, drawing the attention of three house-elves, all who popped right in front of her.

"Mistress needs help?"

"Is Mistress hurt?"

"How can Nugget help Mistress?"

Hermione shook her head, staring down at Nugget first and sighing.  _Names_. She made a mental note to research house-elf names when she went back to work. "I'm fine, thank you all very much. Please . . . I don't need anything right now, I promise."

Hesitantly, and with a touch of bored disappointment, the elves all slunked off to find something to clean.

"Mum? Dad?" She stepped into the lab, smiling when she saw her parents sitting down at her work table, teacups in hand. Pixy stood nearby, looking exceptionally proud of herself for diverting their attention.

"Good morning, sweetheart," her father said before sipping his tea.

Her mother stood and kissed her on the cheek. "I hope you don't mind us snooping about. It was getting late, and we didn't want to disturb you."

"Late?" Hermione frowned and quickly cast a Tempus Charm with the flick of her wand, shocked to see that it was well past the normal time that she and Theo usually woke for breakfast. "I'm so sorry! I'd planned to make breakfast this morning."

"Pixy can do it!" the house-elf said enthusiastically.

Hermione sighed, reluctantly nodding her head and watching as Pixy vanished. "I'm being forced to rethink a lot of my beliefs regarding house-elves. I actually feel quite bad when I don't let them do things for me," she admitted, a bit begrudgingly.

"I'll agree with you on the treatment of the poor dears," her mother said. "After what you told us about . . . What was his name?"

Hermione frowned. "Dobby."

"It's good of you to do what you can for those who can't do for themselves."

Hermione returned her mother's kind expression with a tight-lipped version of her own, silently wondering if the woman had any idea the irony of her statement considering she'd practically forbidden her from assisting in any way possible.

"How do you like the lab?" Hermione asked, clearing her throat and reaching into a nearby cabinet where she kept her personal mug that Harry had bought for her while on a trip to America. It was charmed to refill itself with coffee as long as a pot had been brewed in the associated kitchen. She tapped the mug with her wand and watched with joy as it filled itself.

"It's so clean in here," her mother commented as she looked around the room while Hermione fed the caffeine monster inside of her.

"Well, your offices were always properly sanitised. I remember you and Daddy always telling me about germs and how you had to keep things clean and not contaminate anything. Professor Snape was quite similar . . . only a lot louder," Hermione said with an amused snort.

"Snape." Her mother thought for a moment. "Oh, he was the . . . unpleasant one. The Professor who turned out to be . . ." At Hermione's simple nod, she smiled and returned her attention to the various things around the room. "Well, he kept you in good habits then. Good man."

"This is an amazing lab, sweetheart. Is this what most of them look like?" her father asked curiously, his focus landing on the warded cabinet where they could see but not touch all the alphabetised ingredients. "Didn't exactly get to see them at St Mungo's or at Hogwarts when we were able to visit Poppy."

Hermione refused to comment on their first name basis with the Hogwarts mediwitch, still a bit put out that she was left in the dark for so long about her mother's illness. Instead, she focused on the here and now. "This lab was obviously here before I moved in. I've just set everything up the way I like it since I'm down here so often."

Her mother let out a loud chuckle as she browsed the cabinet from the outside, staring at the phials within. "A Sober-Up Potion? Really?" she asked, turning to raise an amused brow.

Hermione smirked. "Really," she said, walking over to show her mother her collection. "I brew an extra-strength one  _in bulk_  for Harry's godfather, the lush."

Her father made his way across the room to join them, setting a hand on her mother's shoulder as he peered over the top of her head at the variety of sizes and colours of potions. "Some things I don't think I'll ever get over learning about. Potions is one of them."

Hermione grinned at the sparkle in her father's eye, feeling excited to show off a bit considering they still were somewhat hesitant of charms and transfiguration. "It's the closest to medicine we have in this world outside of Healing Charms. Potions is really more science than—"

"Invigoration Draught, Dreamless Sleep, Pepper-Up," her mother read the labels aloud, looking more and more interested as she went along, "Blood Replenisher, Pain—What's this one, dear? It's not labelled." She grabbed a small purple phial with bubbles, holding it up for inspection.

Hermione yawned as she glanced at the crystal phial. "Oh, that's just an Anti-Nausea Potion. I ran out of labels, and we go through it so fast that I—"

"Why do you go through them so fast?" her father asked, furrowing his brow.

Her eyes widened as she realised her mistake.

Her mother gasped, eyes drawn towards Hermione's flat tummy. "Are you—?"

"What? No!" she insisted as quickly as possible. "No, I'm not pregnant, I just meant . . . I, umm, the potion, it's for—"

"It's for me."

All three Grangers turned to see Theo standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual day robes but wearing Muggle jeans, like Hermione. He smiled sadly at her and stepped into the lab, approaching the family and gratefully taking the phial out of her mother's hands.

Hermione frowned. "Theo—"

"It's fine, love," he said, kissing her cheek before opening the top of the potion, swallowing it down as quickly as possible and then vanishing the phial. "Needed it anyway."

Her father looked nervous as he asked, "What's going on?"

Theo sighed and glanced between both of her parents. "I'm dying."


End file.
